solivagant xxvi
I've been watching the
tree grow outside the window at school.
day by day, I saw it shake off winter,
put forth pale pink buds.
slowly, slowly, they unfold
like someone breathed life into
pieces or origami.
I wish I could open up half as gracefully,
I wish that what was inside me could be
appreciated just a tenth as much
as those sweet spring blooms.
a new girl walks home with me;
I don't know where she came from,
maybe she popped out with the
warm weather, like so many others who
can't take the winter.
I was looking at a cluster of
impossibly tiny violet flowers,
the ones I look forward to every tear to
lighten my way home.
she called them weeds,
as if anything that grows naturally
is a threat to our carefully manufactured
environment.
who gave dandelions the
status of "unwanted"?
age old books mention daisy chains,
but for me it was always
sunshine yellow dandelion crowns.
so maybe I'm the flower
perceived as a weed;
but at least there will always be that little girl
who stops to look down and
smile.
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