Tiny Flowers
by John Carter

Tiny flowers,
reach for the sun,
red, blue, golden.

I transplanted them last spring,
thinking they were just vines,
ground cover to fill the space
between what I imagined were the real flowers.

But they marched up the hill and exploded,
a storm of tiny blooms scattered across the lawn.

Like me,
they don’t belong here.
And winter is coming.