THE PARASITE CLASS

Arts and Culture
Written By Scott Robinson

I have a philodendron in a pot
On a stool in the corner of my room
The leaves most near the soil receive direct
Sunlight; the fronds cascading down the side
Turned toward the window get reflected rays.
The side turned toward the wall gets none at all,
Nor any growing underneath the stool. 

Yet every leaf and frond is without spot
Or blemish, green and glossy all the same,
The dusty leaves below—the fronds connect
Them to the sun and soil, and they are fed,
And no one gasps, or goggles in amaze.
A few young shoots begin to climb the wall,
The sunlit ones unstinting with their fuel. 

One day, in time, they’ll taste the sunlight’s kiss.
I need America to be like this.

Scott Robinson

Scott has one of those résumés that give HR people a migraine. He grew up amongst the glacial hills and lakes, and long, cold winters of Central New York. He has worked at Renaissance Faires, as, variously, an actor, musician, and a Tarot reader, and at one faire he met his wife, Allison. He taught college music for ten years, then studied to become an Interfaith Minister, in which he concentrated on hospice chaplaincy. He is a professed member of the Third Order of St. Francis, a religious order within the Episcopal Church. He has recently begun the study of Druidry, as part of his quest to "free Christ from his Near Eastern captivity." He has early onset Parkinson's Disease, which is making him less inhibited every day, God help us. He lives in Philadelphia.

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