Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower—but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
At some point soon-ish, these flowers will be gone, so I thought I should take some shots (in our front yard) before they disappear. Every time I look at them, the above poem goes through my mind- one of the very few poems I still remember from high school. I like to think it was the deep meaning that drew me to this poem, but I think I might have just liked the word, crannied.