I saw weeds peaking through cement cracks, and I thought,

"Thank god humans could never bury you, Mother Earth,
Even if we tried."

I gazed along the leaves and long vines stretching out for sun,
And my eyes landed on a small, pretty, yellow flower growing too.

I looked to the sun and smiled and back at the flower and saw
A fly had landed there, washing his paws.

And then I wondered if flies ever wish they were bees
and instead of living in ****, wish they made honey.