I walked by a field of dancing weeds,
joyfully bobbing about to the tune of a windy morning.
Consider the humble weed;
growing in the meanest of circumstances,
all grit and scrappy determination to reach toward the sky,
No hothouse luxuries for them,
the common man of horticulture.
The difference between a flower and a weed is in the eye of the beholder;
just like with people,
once you take the time to get to know them,
to listen to them,
to study them,
you begin to see their worth,
their unique qualities,
and the whole world becomes a little more beautiful.