Be like wheat.
We didn't make it into the farmer's truck.
Surely he will scoop us up before he leaves.
He never came back, so this is our luck.
We had two choices, start growing, or cease to be.
We were all thinking, "I'm not supposed to be here,
a beautiful field is waiting for me."
As we stuck together, the closeness dulled our fear.
Looking around, cold pavement is all we could see.
Without nutrients or soil, the first days passed slow.
The sun was warm, and there was no rain.
The nightly dew kept us bound together, as the wind began to blow.
Our tender roots found each other, and ended our pain.
Alone no more, we embraced our situation.
We grew fast into a tiny island of green.
A guy took our picture as we celebrated germination.
Then wrote this silly poem about the toughest wheat he had ever seen!