There Is A Beauty Uncultivated Poem by Raymond Farrell

There is a beauty uncultivated
Unappreciated by most
Who take on official titles
Of which they boast
Expertise in delicate blooms
That lies strewn haphazardly
Across many an unkempt meadow
Which says emphatically
That the whims of nature
The wind the birds
And other unexpected sources
Drop seeds here and there
Without fertilizer or human resources
They take root and thrive
By late Spring
The whole meadow comes alive
With a palette so varied
No artist however skilled could match
The outstretched beauty of the scene
That has sprung up untended
By a force unseen
Where just a few weeks ago
The barren meadow was in
The grip of ice and snow.