You grow in a crack in the sidewalk,
neither asking nor receiving hospitality.
Spreading your arms out
to what the city will give you of the sun,
reaching your roots down unseen,
patient among slabs and pipes and gravel,
you find a way to nourish yourself.
You gather yourself into this one simple blossom,
not a big one, but yellow in a desert of gray.
And what is it worth?
A guy comes along, distracted,
maybe troubled even, looking down.
He stops, sits on a cement block,
and stares at you. He tilts his head
as if reading something. After a long time
gazing at you he makes a single sound,
“mm,” and something that could be
a smile comes to his face.
He looks at the sky, takes a breath, gets up,
and walks off, somehow different.
You never know.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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