"Don't water that. That's a weed."

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"Don't water that. That's a weed."
What is a weed
but an unexpected moment of growth,
a trod-on seed’s
insistent statement of presence
springing forth at last to life;

it is the soil’s renewing oath
of unpredictability,
an earthy reminder that the essence
of life is rooted in mystery
that cannot be plotted out
with certainty.

A weed is that which we did not plant
and do not deserve:
the unexpected smile lingering about
the corners of your lips,
the long-evasive word that drips
unbidden off of your hovering pen,
       or even
that sudden moment
of crystal awareness in which you briefly see
the unveiled world for what it truly is:
a place of undeserved
moments of unexpected beauty --
a place that is covered in weeds.

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