We Are Not Familiar

We are not familiar – we are city dwellers. We have passed each other on crowded city streets. Proud yellows protruding through concrete cracks. I have danced with “lady slippers” in a shaded cluster of trees – marveled at their footwork, I have cheered the dandelion, that tenacious little terror, for its unrelenting determination to survive our mindless hate. Small purple bells hang - silent chimes adrift on winnowing winds. Bright red, the spiral twirl of hybrid wanderers, bred of pollinations need. White buds of frostily exhaled “babies breath” lay low against the shrubs. So I walk the city, untamed gardens, each earthy patch a home where beauty may take root, smile at passersby. I thank the fickle winds of fate for taunting the towering shade makers, planting each colored sun drop amid the gray. We are not “familiar” we are city dwellers. John G. Lawless 4/16/2016