Beauty
I say the weeds are beautiful
Bright dandelions, three-leaf clover, floppy grasses with spiky bulbs
And I am told they are not;
They are ugly, ugly weeds and should be destroyed
But I still find them beautiful.
The patio has moss growing
In between the tiles, a dark hexagonal border growing,
Growing despite its suppression, its oppression, its sequestration
I think it's lovely
And I am told it is not;
But, I still think them lovely
Who decides what has beauty?
Sure, those weeds are unwanted
Sure, god knows what's under those tiles
And sure, maybe those grasses are attracting bugs
But they grow from adversity
Despite herbicides and whackers
And I am proud of them
Are you proud of them?
I would be proud of you, growing despite the world
And, I hope you would be proud of me.
So tell me, earnestly
Do you still think those weeds ugly?