Misery is a ****
To be severed at the stem
Yellow dandelions reach
And scream they are medicine

My garden blooms
With rage and thunderstorms
Dark clouds rain heavy
Soil crowded by wild onions

The lilies stretch
And shout for some light
In a war with the sunflowers
Who only bear fruit at night

I tell the begonias
To have a little faith
Not compete with the tulips
We all find beauty along the way

I speak mostly love into
My honest little garden
Pulling at weeds who's roots run deep
The main event of the harvest

Without weathering the storms
Sprouting innocent dandelion leaves
Little room would be left for growth
And dreams would remain rootless seeds