Spent

They say you're a weed. "Viola Sororia", Common Blue Violet. But you're anything but common.

You're a little beauty in my grassy pasture, a pollinator and a nurturer of the little creatures that rely on you. You're an integral part of our ecosystem, but you're not posing in a manicured and selectively accessorized flower bed on display.

No, you grew quietly in a big field with no accolades, no " oooh" s and "ahhh" s over your blooming. Your sweet nectar beckoned the little ones, butterflies and bees and different kinds of wasps, to come hither for your offering. The siren of your pollen-laden stamen drifting across the fields like ribbons of a sweet melody and for a moment in time, you were on center stage, your petals a glorious lavender gown adorning your strong steadfast stem.

The flutter of little wings quivered your petals as little legs became laden yellow backpacks, and butterflies paused for a drink of your sweet nectar. Maybe even a hummingbird found you!

Buffeted by the wind, your petals are frayed and curling, your stamen stripped clean but still stand in a stoic defiance of time. For this is the cost of time and nurturing, the price paid for being a part of heaven's design.

I think you're beautiful. Even now. Your tattered petals a testament to living by design. You may be "spent" to the world, but it's...

a life well spent.