A renegade white daisy has infiltrated the front garden
perfectly manicured in shades of pink,
miniature roses and impatiens carefully arranged in clusters of beauty.
Far from its inception in the wildflower bed out back under the pine tree,
seed carried perhaps on an early spring wind,
it has settled itself in moist earth,
white petals splaying out from the stem tall and proud.
It might have gone unnoticed if it had remained among the others.
Now, uncaring that it’s a misfit among the pink,
oblivious to its inappropriateness,
it flourishes without my care.
Its white petals are less showy, some would say,
than the passionate pinks surrounding it.
Still it has a loveliness all its own in its courage.
I could pull it like some disparate weed that mars beauty,
but its confidence warns me away
as if to say it’s where it belongs,
not with the others like it
but forging new ground,
finding its own way to glory.


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