At the edge of the parking lot,
in a crack between pavement and curb,
a seedling.
Only about three inches tall, but
I can tell it’s a maple.
It will never grow to its full potential, and
may be chopped to the ground
next time the gardener mows.
Still,
I appreciate the vitality,
the struggle to be noticed in a place
where everything gets suppressed
between a rock and a hard place.
Until then,
there is a seedling.
By Shai Ben-Shalom
