“A weed is a flower growing in the wrong place.”
George Washington Carver
Spike-haired, brass-blonde,
they invade the bluegrass suburbs
where blades form a passive sameness
if tended as intended. They strut
across the green of everyday —
strumpets in tattered leafy skirts,
stiletto roots — bestowing downy favors
on the summer breeze.
– Sarah Russell
First published in Your Daily Poem
Photo Source
Sarah Russell Poetry 