Tomatoes and boiler

At a time of the year when my tomato plant roots usually are reaching into the ground

Reaching past busy worms who 

Know not what is the time of day

Who care not for holidays

Or working conditions for that matter

This time of year

I found myself scrambling

Potting my tomatoes from one pot to another

Ever larger -a reverse Russian doll ritual-

And apologizing every morning to a slightly wilting crowd 

That I could not, must not, dare not

Plant them in the garden for

Inclement rains and tomato-breaking winds were on the way.

And during this unusual climatic journey

That went against the news of another chunk of Ice 

That had cracked into the ocean,

My boiler cracked:

One repairman, two repairman, three repairman later

Electronic pieces and devices were replaced like hot cakes

Yet the boiler kept breaking down.

So every morning, even before I would say good morning to my tomatoes

I had to run down to see the boiler

Reset the time, the date and restart 

The CD player to play Mozart's symphonie 41, Jupiter

And read Dante to the boiler in hope that somehow

Despite its defective state of mind

It would come to reason

Because Beatrice never committed treason

And freezing bees avoid preseason outings

When nectars are  too cold or

Just not sticky yet.

After 2 weeks of this tense rocambolesque activity

Yesterday I planted the tomatoes and

Like some miracle

The boiler started working again

The connection being all too obvious.