Persist

Cars pull up to a stop light, idling over blacktop.

And over that, a concrete median - the layers of man-made skin

...trying to shape, to tame the land.

By a lamppole, you see a few shoots.

The post leans just slightly, the rust shows the evidence of battling the inevitable.

And the simple root raised by the base

...stubborn in its placement.

What right does it have, this tiny obstinant force of nature,

...to place itself, amidst man's handiwork.

Presumptious.

And then you smile, laugh to yourself. Admirable.

The shoots of the weed know nothing of why... of rights... of debts and due,

... oughts and should have as much to do with it as the discarded wrapper that flutters by.

It knows only to reach for what nourishes and lets it persist.