Park weeds

 The weeds have grown a foot out of the pavement.
They wave me and wave me out.
They green and they seedy flower stout.
Their roots deep inside pavement cracks.

The road running poser never notices,
Or even looks back.
He doesn't thank God for this little park.
He just keeps running as if we cared.

The brilliant long blades of grass.
reach upward so gracefully.
But just so that my hands can pull.
That I can uproot them and throw them beyond.

So that the curb can be clear.
All the way down clean and ordered.
Oh my smile oh my relief.
Just getting it all smooth.