What are Weeds?
Seeds are scattered, big and small
Many prosper, but not all;
Some land on dry and stony sand,
Others, tho’, on fertile ground,
But who’s to say which are the weeds?
Weeds can grow up straight and tall
Or perchance be mean and small,
They can also have the power
To produce the most enchanting flowers.
Do weeds perhaps grow easily
In almost any clime where we
Ourselves can live in harmony,
Where ‘proper plants’ must be coerced
To bud and flower to bring us pleasure?
Images and poetry: ©Denise G Allen, 09 November 2013 08:54