Undergrowth Not surface amaryllis those drag queens of the plant kingdom, but a subterranean survivor like cave-dwelling stunted subspecies These slight tender shoots unfurling one pale blossom atop a reedy, pale stem. Down where the heart and lungs live and breathe, pump out heat copper arteries transport water elsewhere stoic pillars shoulder the load and the damp floor hints at what’s beneath. Among clay pots, with last season’s spent soil a bulb assumed dormant is blooming reaching for an imagined sun slight lean towards the dim glass that scatters only the refracted light of a muddied window well. This is the kind of faith that knocks the wind out of the cynic, the hope against hope that nourishes in these diminished hours of daylight. Do not dream of what could have been; a plump-stemmed, lipstick-petalled giant. This is what is. A life that has defied the odds. Divine.