weeds explode
through the cracks
and the holes
in old parking lot pavements;
and the thorn bushes thicken
and sharpen their resolve
to swarm the perimeter
of their methane-
choked marshes;
and the wine-blushing flowers
blossom in the handmade boxes
which adorn
your southern-
exposure window—
but the rains
that plumb
and the winds
that run
and the sun
that comes
are all one
and the same.
