Fairy Flowers

Kristine Wagner

Every morning I walked down to give water

To the chickens and the ducks,

A bucket half my weight in one hand

My other arm stretched out for balance.

That is when I saw the fairy flowers.

They were shorter than the grass,

Their blooms no larger than my thumbnail was.

Four perfectly petite petals unfurled

From the slender leafless stem

In shades from ballerina pink to lavender.

Every year they appeared

Just after onion grass season

And just before the violets.

Most of the flowers I found in the grass

My mother dubbed “Weed Flowers”,

But I knew these were different.

These did not overrun gardens

Or stand out garish against

The side of crumbling sidewalks.

Only a dozen or so tiny flowers

Would grow in a grove,

In a little fairy circle.