In the distance

on the shoulder of the highway

a parked dilapidated pickup leaned

toward a meadow sprinkled

with Black-Eyed Susans

and pink and purple Phlox.

 

Among the wildflowers,

ambled a balding elderly man

along with two small children

hardly more than toddlers,

each clutching bouquets.

 

Starting for the truck, all three

stopped, stooped,

and stole another blossom.

 

Whose day, I wondered,

would soon be brightened

by hand-picked flowers,

as the scene itself

brightened mine.