-This poem reflects on the quiet abundance of wild growing things that bring beauty to overlooked places in spring.
Along the road, beyond the fence,
where no one meant a garden there,
the milkweed lifts its tender leaves,
the clover spreads in little stars.
Small blossoms find the broken ground,
and fill the margins with their light,
purple, white, and yellow flare,
rising softly through the grass.
No careful hand has placed them here,
no plan has taught them how to bloom,
they enter spring by their own grace,
and make abundance out of air.
So much of beauty comes this way,
unasked for, humble, freely given,
the wildflower at the edge of things,
the world becoming more than planned.