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.