This small flower leans into the light with great optimism. You see, it is growing out of a small scar cut into the bitumen of a basketball court.

The court is part of a busy school playground, and each day it is most likely to be trampled.

Yet here it is. Not thinking of survival.
Not aware of its fragility.
Just.
Offering up flags of white pollen by day.
Wilting into the cool kenopsia of night.