A flower hid amid the scrub
Catching light seeping from the mist
Blocked by knots of worthy brambles
Its beauty nearly missed
Many strangers walking
By this tattered grove do gaze
Toward the locus of its blooming
But are focused on the haze
My eye with keener vision
Than these foolish and these fair
Drawn to subtle colors
In soft petals hidden there
A jewel lifted from the ground
Is this flower in the wild
A spark of fire against the brown
And darkness is exiled
Poetry and Verse 