By Sharon Graves
A mini-ecosystem was never discovered
Until Sharon bought the house and uncovered
A wondrous place only found
In the hills of Southern mountains.
Three pines there were standing tall
Not the prettiest ones of all
But underneath them cool and damp
Wildflowers grew, undisturbed plants.
What were they? No one cared
Until Sharon happened to spare
Leaves of green
That she assumed were weeds.
June came and surprise was on the way
When something pink began to display
On that weed of green leaves
that started to produce colorful sheathes.
The flower grew and revealed who it was-
A Pink Lady Slipper from the mountains above
My little house in the foothills below
What a blessing it bestowed.
I looked everyday, taking photos
Among the scrubby pines and weeds of my "Eco"
Two, three, maybe four seasons she displayed
Her pretty slippers in June days.
One pine tree died and then was cut
Now there's death, heat, and much dry mud
Will my pretty flower survive?
No more able to safely hide?
Today I see the leaves of green
That once I had assumed were those of weeds
June will be here again next year
Flowers will bloom somewhere near.
And maybe I will see a flower revealed
A pink lady slipper just for me.