The Nameless Plant

To you at least.
You know it’s named—
English, Latin,
Paiute. Silvered

Green, scrubby thing,
You could name it
To please yourself,
But it’s better

Unnamed. You watch
As the late light
Slips over it
And wind bends it.

It’s working hard
To stay alive.
It can’t help it.
That’s what it means.