In my mother’s front yard, walking bare foot, I came alone a particularly yellow weed. Weed because nothings grows there except weeds, grass, and two gigantic Thuja trees. The other weeds stayed clear of it, but i couldn’t.

A small flower, almost as big as my finger.

little shoots in its center; four or five petals—all in goldenrod yellow, its stem in myrtle green

no smell. Beautiful.

Walking through the yard, picking them up
I have coffee to make. I toss it away.


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