Weed and Flower

In a parable about the man
who sowed grain in his field: 
while everyone was sleeping, 

his enemy came and sowed
weeds among the wheat. For fear
of pulling up the good with the bad, 

he tells his workers to let them be 
until it's time to harvest; only then, 
gather up the weeds for burning. 

And I read of a couple
skateboarding around their city, 
sometimes dressed like striped 

black and yellow bees. Spice 
shaker in hand, they seed-bomb 
each open plot of soil, each wide rip 

in the sidewalk and around the base 
of trees, with wildflower seeds— 
anywhere in the urban garden

that looks neglected or overlooked. 
In the branches of a Japanese maple 
by our door, there's a nest of cardinals—

When we open the door or the mail 
gets delivered, a bright flash of wings: 
a warning, about telling friend from foe.  

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