There is a tiny patch of grass
along 75 North,
a foot long,
or could be smaller.
Resting under a tattered billboard
for a truck stop Striptease baring all.

RV resorts that promise
pool side views.
Distant motels blink behind
as “Fireworks Next Exit” beg
mile after lonely mile.

There, along Hwy 75 North,
you’ll find the most vibrant cluster
of purple wildflowers
shallow to the ground,
no signage, no arrows.
Vulnerable in the breeze
as they silently bare all.