The weeds don't know
The ugly ducklings of summer
Are having a fall fashion show.
Chevys and Hummers whiz by,
Owners intent on reaching
Jobs hanging by a string,
Powered by a head puppeteer,
Who's just another puppet.
No time to tarry and appreciate
These lovelies, these surprises.
Strewn among losing lottery tickets,
Fast food bags and water bottles,
Blooming into swans of purple
Wild asters, little shell pink daisies,
Tiny lady slippers, a freckle faced
Orange, like rare orchids
In a far off tropical jungle.
I notice the sweet pea is aptly named
For the pea pod hanging
Near the fuchsia flower,
How could I have missed that
In all my years? I don't know,
I am guessing the old
Gentleman who peered through
His windshield and waved,
Has some memory of lying lazily
Upon such a colorful carpet with
A fondly remembered first love,
Princess in a daisy chain tiara.
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