Ode to Wildflowers

As we approach the winter solstice, I can’t shake off nostalgia for my unruly yard, and the benefits of abandoning my weed wacker.

I can live almost anywhere
no care do I need
but I fit in nowhere
I’m a mangy weed.

Most folks feel I don’t belong
in their garden or their lawn,
they yank me out and say so long.
But I return with each new dawn.

Weed secrets are known by few:
their stems and roots, leaves and blooms
when added to soup, salad or stew
add years between wombs and tombs.