The Secret to Delight

They only grow when you go too long
without cutting the grass.
When it is high enough the neighbors look
at you slightly askance.

Yellow. Startlingly bright. Small
but in clusters. If you knew what they were,
you would buy seeds
and cover the earth with them.

When, eventually, you do cut the grass,
you cut around the clusters,
green and yellow clumps of color
disturbing the freshly coifed lawn.

The secret to delight is the waiting.
Letting the grass grow.
Giving the unruliness time
enough to become beauty.

About this poem.

I really do have these little yellow flowers that I cut around in my yard. (I also cut around bachelor’s buttons.). I delight in them as much as an avid gardener might dote on their roses. I really do wait until my lawn has reached near hayfield proportions to cut it, because there is always a special beauty that comes with patience and waiting.

A poem about flowers. About love. About relationships in general. About faith. About aging. Poetry is never about one thing.

Tom