For a Weed in a Brick Wall

Now is the season
of weed glory,
when their ragged leaves
outlive the fame of flowers
and sing their subtle shades
of fade.

Decay contains a special luster.

The muted greens
and red-vein lines
that reach down each leaf's spine
are signs of light's betraying brevity.

I'm sure to some it is no mystery
and there are dances for weed bonfires.

But I'm no longer some. I'm one
now with this inherited affinity
for the worthless. A seed
that landed in a wall
with enough dirt, sun and rain
to take root, bloom and now begin



by jerry gordon
9.12.05