I came upon a parade of Zinnias today... lined along the pave-way, wild and wily. An infinite variety of colorful heads popping up and out, like eyes of wary prairie dogs, on the lookout for action.
Thought of you... the flower heads you gave me, filled with seeds aplenty to plant in the spring. Knew just where they would go. Imagined my hands in the welcoming earth, sowing them at just the right depth.
They would grow, reaching with their long thin frames. Vigorously tall and full of Summers' brightness. Symmetrical flowers filled with attitude towards the sun.
Flourishing in cracks along sidewalks and driveways. Finding comfort and feeling free in the most limited of spaces.
Yet...I did not plant them. Aware that I am not able, just now, to make such a commitment. To water and ****. Ensuring that they would reach their full potential. A simple promise of one season. To nourish a delicate, perfect Zinnia.