Choppy porch thoughts for a Friday morning.

It’s always seemed so ambitious
to me, the planting of flowers.
Not until do little nothings
grow into somethings, they grow
into beautiful somethings.

(You bury them, dare them
to make a grave
into a crib,
to grow with no affection,
as no human could…
and they do!
Limbless, somehow
they shove the soil away
and enter the world-
bashful at first,
but comely and strong.)

Maybe if I plant newspapers
in my garden, they will grow
into beauty instead of war.

After all, have you ever seen an ugly flower?