Little plants

Little plants that grow near to the earth

By storm and tempest rarely are destroyed

They hold themselves to be of little worth

They do not wish to bully or annoy

These little plants will flower and make their seeds

As beautiful as any garden rose

Every living thing is made to breed

The wisdom of the humble we must know.

Walking on the paths across the hills

We trample on these flowers but don’t destroy

These wild flowers revive they are not killed

By walking boots that still this earth annoy.

These little flowers are holy and they say 

The proud may be in error in their way