My favorite flowers are the ones

that grow in ditches.

I almost miss them,

cruising ten over the limit because I’m late for an appointment,

or idling bumper to bumper at five o’clock when every driver wants the road to himself,

just as I glaze over Pain crying out from the curbs of my heart,

“Pay attention to me…!”

The yellow goldenrod nod

from their bridge slopes,

the white daisies wave

from their ditch basins,

and giant freckled sunflowers bow

to my tires along the shoulder.

Ever since

they first caught my eye,

I look for them all over the place, specks of beauty against

a backdrop of litter and broken concrete,

simple and unpretentious, unlike

the suburban garden variety–

yet fully aware of their glory in all its wild beauty.

How is it that weeds so striking

can grow out of the wayside?

As if

the flower’s sole purpose is to arrest attention,

halt the hurried journey,

and make the world stand still,

even if only for a second.


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