This afternoon, while waiting for him to arrive, I walked over to the edge of the parking lot the field next to the plant. It has grown up in various grasses and weeds. Most are in full bloom.
As I stood there, I noticed how they were all trying to eek out their little piece of existence. Crowded together, but surviving. How some had grown in the middle of others, making them appear as a single plant. I also began to study all the flowers. They are all weeds, but, they don't know that. All they know, is they must put forth their flowering beauty, hoping a bird, or insect or the wind, will carry their seed far and wide. All the intricate blossoms, from flowers smaller then the end of my finger, to the overbearing thistle.
All the colors were blended together. The various shades of green, mixed with the yellow petals, the while blossoms, even the brown seeds which had already turned. Each had their place in the field. Each filled their part in the symphony of color and life. And even though, it's just a weed patch, for a brief moment, their was an inspiration of beauty. At that very moment, they all held their rightful place in the universe.
And then it was over. Back to the concrete world. Back to the sound of cars and trucks going by on the highway next door. Back to the sound of the machinery whining in the plant behind me. Back to the reality that Lynn was pulling up to get me to endure the rush hour drive home.