i have this piece of art they say is worth a lot.
its hanging on my wall above my most valued piece.
a sprig of fern, dried between the pages of a book, glued to
plain paper, framed in an old thrift store picture frame.

i like the contradiction hanging on my wall.

the expensive piece is roughly
three feet by four feet,
colorful and bright. created
by some contemporary English artist,
which is code for pretentiously posh.
Too expensive and chic because it's British.
Made in a medium that allows anyone
with an idea to become slightly successful
as long as people buy into the con
and like what they are selling.

i guess i am the sucker that i describe.

But beneath it is this three inch piece of fern
picked from a field in Bethel, NY. where peace
and love passed itself around in freedom.
it's held onto paper by Mod-Podge and faded
from some sunlight. i think my mother bought
the frame 15 years ago for some childhood
photo she never framed. it looks like
a 4 year old crafted the fern in
pre-school and brought it home for Mom
to hang up on the fridge like some achievement.

so when i'm sitting on my couch with
sunlight on my back, Alice Coltrane's  Journey in Satchidananda
being played, coffee being sipped, enjoyment being had
and peace just out of reach...

...i find myself looking at the fern.