we would never ask the squash plant to grow apples but we might think it
there is always hope before peeling an orange that it will be sweet
we ignore the cracks in the out-of-mind places ‘til something grows there
nature’s graffiti would be a flower growing on an ugly fence
a fresh idea doesn’t come from the same well as stale ideas
the flower worries not; the sun will always shine eventually
two vines, intertwined the squash, the morning glory sharing the same fence
every storm cloud eventually passes we should remember
the flower opens when it is ready, and not a minute before
the storm cloud has passed but we still check the forecast before heading out
uptown jack 