Flowers Don't Take Money

In our zooming silicon world
they're like silent gurus
outside the tanning parlors
law offices and art galleries

they repose in meditative beds
in resplendent purples and yellows,
pinks and whites and reds

they catch the morning dew
filter Apollo's rays through it,
say nothing true or untrue
but shine forth in quiet beauty

and flowers don't take money
at least not very much
truth be told:
they can't use the stuff

they needs only good soil,
water and sunshine

They are not master-works
for the discrimminating,
but everyday survivors
that pop up everywhere
orchids and tulips in wealthy yards
daffodils behind white picket fences
purple snap-dragons by the highway

They're remarkable because they're
not rare or rarified:
everyman may grow them
by all eyes may be seen

they have no machines
to scan a visa or a mastercard,
neither do they take resumes
work nights,
or multi-task

The price of their beauty is small:
a little thought and water
a little pulling of weeds,
a small helping of sun
a will to appreciation