The Destiny of Weeds

Ron Koppelberger

The Destiny of Weeds

Bothering the ambition of speckled flowers, blossoms in sweet fragrant answer to the spring and desires of an adorned bride, the ragweed sprouted and sang the song of an unwonted bloom, in tiny eyed dander and a poor mans rose, in the spaces between trees. Shrub and open fields of play lay the dreams and destiny of weeds, the innate consciousness of a haven inhabited by the unruly and the sturdy, the weed being tougher and more abundant in its propagating birth, in its unabashed growth.
The destiny of a weed in favored places and desolate untrod ground, to live ugly or perhaps beautifully by the promise of an appreciative glance and a day borne only for weeds and the castaway wonder of what’s understood by few but the love of a peasant admiring the wishes of a dandelion.