It is always the flesh

The path of true love
and all its impediments. 
Way too much direct sunlight
leaf-scorching heat.
Monkeys.

It should be a no brainer. 
To sprout seeds, nurture saplings, 
hydrate, aerate, fertilize. Unfailingly 
admire, sing even of your great 
love to be returned in
stems, leaves, flowers and fruits -
fleshy, abundant. 

But it was never the brain, 
it is always the flesh. To want what is hard to get. 
To toil fruitlessly to be the beloved
of plants.