Clustered in a circle the size of my palm
tiny white blossoms on a coarse green stalk,
Queen Anne’s Lace.
They sway in the breeze while the cicadas sing.
Uninvited they decorate untended fields as weeds.
Too soon the contractor, with dollar signs in his eyes,
turned up the field and planted a house instead.
This poem was published by Joyce and Michael Gullickson in their chapbook: Blue Hole 2013.