There are weeds in my garden Of all shapes and sizes Most are green Some are fuzzy, some have prickers or thorns In my mind they all have potential to be sunflowers Born of the cast aside seed from the birds, nestled deep in the snow. Waiting. Waiting for the sun of spring time to crack it wide open Warm enough to grow a thick stemmed sunny blossom. Ripe with more seeds, to be cast aside by more birds. To repeat this cycle of bloom, die, nestle, and wait Wait for the sun Wait for the warmth of nature’s love Very few often achieve this status I know because one year I left them all to grow Sunflowers were surely among them but mostly it was just a mess of thorns and thatch Hard to appreciate the bonny yellow flower among the weeds The weed that flew in just a few weeks ago On the seed carried by a fluffy wing This season I have stayed with the weeds, plucking them as I find them Except the thorniest among them They grow tall so fast Feverishly reaching for the sky With no concern for what they touch or how they interfere Spiky, thick stemmed and impervious Except when they are new Except when they are new Still there are thorns but if you reach to their very bottom There is stem there, smooth and untouched If you touch it just so you can avoid the thorns And it barely needs even a tug Its roots so shallow in the dirt As if begging to be touched before it grows thorny and thick Can you see past my gruff exterior and see the real me it whispers? Like the beast waiting for true love’s kiss Pick me, it says. I’m a flower too. On the inside. I want love too.
Love this. I feel that "weeds" are underappreciated (when they are not horrible bullies which is also their reminder for us to be cognizant of our surroundings). But even intentional flowers can be overexuberant, like love-in-a-mist or forget-me-not and yet we welcome those. The shrubs that birds "plant" under trees, though...ugh. Have yet to embrace them.