The lesser known flowers
The low growing weeds
inspire in me
tenderness.
Bouquets of shameless market roses
Bold lilies in cellophane
Are revolting
Pathetic are the hostesses
Arranging them in vases
In carpeted drawing rooms.
A child walked to school
Picking dandelions and grass florets
Bunching them in a small fist
With sweet scented clover
A posy for a teacher
With kind eyes
And a ready smile.
For the Lord of Heaven
I shall carry only Earth’s weeds
And if He does not smile
I’ll weep for all eternity.

Comments 1
Author
Thank you for the feature and the editorial comment.
I agree that we only call flowers weeds when we don’t like them.