nudging the sprouts

we’ve got this lousy patch
of unkempt lawn along the west
side of our driveway.

B planted wildflowers there
and even a few giant

we go out every day
to look but it’s mostly
unwanted weeds.

dandelion and crab grass
and other nutrient robbing pests
unworthy of names.

we’re out there today bent
over zooming in on whatever
might be blooming.

with her finger she nudges
a sprout the size of a paperclip
“I think this is one.”

I nudge one too though don’t
really know what nudging will do
“what about this one?”

she comes over and touches it
“I think that’s just a weed but
it might be a flower.”

frogs are singing down at the pond
a passing car flicks his headlights on
the neighbor closes his garage.

I jump to my feet and look
over at B by the St Francis statue
and she says, “what is it?”

I look to the north and the east
twirling around then look up to the sky
“I thought I felt a nudge.”
For more metaphorical botanical verse,
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