In the Midst of Weeds

A poem that follows Monday's post, Selective Weeding, with revelations and imaginings of a small child.

Photo by Nikhita Singhal on Unsplash

Out my bedroom window I see
three-foot waves of grass.

These errant blades of shoveled
horse dung infest my yard.

I’ve despised these clumps 
that menace native rabbit brush

or choke the manzanita. But
each spring I wrench up roots 

that break the hardpan, 
and find tiny flowers sheltered 

in their shade. Granite grinds to loam
a foot deep where I have cleared 

and yarrow fills the space. What once
was rock now nurtures lupine spears.

Today, their wind-borne dance pulls me 
to remember when a simple dusty path 

through vacant lots or strips of sage
left behind by dozer's plow

forged fantasies of forest trails
or pioneer travails through hip-high seas 

of gold across virgin Plains.
An urban child escaped her changing world, 

confused and frightened by the noise,
pretending to be wild amidst the weeds.

If you enjoyed this poem, feel free to explore other poems, essays, and stories in the Ring Around the Basin Archive. Also, I love to read your comments, so please share your thoughts. Let’s start a conversation.

Ghost in the Forest, available in paperback and Kindle versions on Amazon.

Book Review:

E.R. Flynn, Illustrator, Cartoonist, Storyteller and Creator of "Escape from Clowntown Comics" here on Substack.

"Ghost in The Forest" is a great read! Take note People. If you love stories about environmentalism and nature, its clash with urban mindsets, as well as personal transformation, this is the book for you!