The Innocence of Plants

I went for a nice, long walk today, through the repectable streets of the wealthy, wooded suburb that my company calls home. Lovely colonials were surrounded by sunny little gardens sporting bright tulips and daffodils. Flowering trees and lilacs gave off a heady scent. Tender little leaves of a tentative yellow-green shaded the sidewalks.

And there--there, one lot away from the middle school--a scrappy little plant grew by a fine, tall fence. This plant was unaware of its own primitiveness, of its spiky, dark-green leaves unfurled in a telltale pattern. Blissfully innocent of its own illicit nature, it assumed it had as much right to sun and soil as its refined cousins.

The cops might beg to differ.