I love every root and branch
and bud and leaf and flower
holding tight potential
of their power
to change the earth
to a thing of beauty.
I even love the weeds,
especially the weeds
who grow between the cracks
in spaces where it seems
all nourishment and bounty lacks.
Weeds like me who do not match
the temper of the garden crowded
with well-trained and tended
seedlings following the garden pattern.
Such weeds seek light despite
the darkness hidden from view
which holds them tight
as they struggle and wage war
against the forces of cement
paving the way for others meant
to get ahead and reach their goal.
Weed’s only goal is to survive.
And yet weeds seem to thrive
when droughts abound
and heavy rains drown
roots tenderly planted
by those in charge
killing gardens which once delighted
and now appear blighted.
Weeds persist as they resist
the easy way, no easy prey
for those who grow bouquets
not for their own intrinsic value,
but to pick and tie with ribbon
that they may tie down the recipient
to whom they are given,
happy not to have to
deal with weeds.
Weeds are stronger than they.
Weeds survive the darkest days.
A world without weeds
would be a sorry place, indeed.
annarino writes 