I read this poem and immediately thought of a moment from a family trip to Disney World. We had gotten an early start, and emerged from the hotel to find gardeners ripping up the flowers surrounding the fountain in front of the entryway.

Although I recall the trip as being nothing but fun and full of good memories, ironically it’s is also the start of my understanding as a child of the difference between what was magical, and what was manicured.

Though they be dented,deserving adoration,are flowers; humans.

Everyone’s holey