I come power-packed for two
 
 And the gentle butterfly offers
 
 Itself in bright yellow sacrifice
 
 Upon my hard silicon shield.
 
 Mango Seedling
 
 Through glass windowpane
 
 Up a modern office block
 
 I saw, two floors below, on wide-jutting
 
 concrete canopy a mango seedling newly sprouted
 
 Purple, two-leafed, standing on its burst
 
 Black yolk. It waved brightly to sun and wind
 
 Between rains—daily regaling itself
 
 On seed yams, prodigally.
 
 For how long?
 
 How long the happy waving
 
 From precipice of rainswept sarcophagus?
 
 How long the feast on remnant flour
 
 At pot bottom?
 
 Perhaps like the widow
 
 Of infinite faith it stood in wait
 
 For the holy man of the forest, shaggy-haired
 
 Powered for eternal replenishment.
 
 Or else it hoped for Old Tortoise's miraculous feast
 
 On one ever recurring dot of cocoyam Set in a large bowl of green vegetables—
 
 This day beyond fable, beyond faith?
 
 Then I saw it
 
 Poised in courageous impartiality
 
 Between the primordial quarrel of Earth
 
 And Sky striving bravely to sink roots
 
 Into objectivity midair in stone.