These tiny dots of yellow,
a tapestry at my feet,
a woven mix of grass
blades, green leaves,
and sunny blooms,
and occasionally,
these knots of purple—
my backyard quilt—
and some would stand
next to me and miss it,
wonder about my sanity —
no matter; you may cry
out “Weeds” all the day,
and I will choose to see
the flowers.
—C.L. Fisher, June 2021
Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.
Poetic Meanderings 