I like the random flowers
you sometimes see when passing
a scratch of grass by a rusted fence,
or a forgotten dirt lot strewn with garbage
chucked from car windows.
There’s a clutch of daffodils as if they were
just borrowed from a bouquet and planted
in some sort of brave gesture. Those errant
blooms saying that even a bare spot of nothing
deserves a touch of grace.
Unintended, Untended, Tender
