Concrete Bloom

A sliver of green, a defiant spike,

against the house, where slab met stone.

No soil, just grit, a small dislike

of order, making itself known.

It pushed, impossibly, through the crack.

A single leaf, a stubborn fight.

Refusing to be held back,

reaching for the indifferent light.

No gardener planted, no tender hand

to coax it up, or give it space.

Just life, asserting its command,

in this forgotten, concrete place.

I knelt to look, a tiny thing,

against the gray, so brave and small.

What deep, inherent, vital spring,

dared to break through it all?