The marigolds burst their sunny colors into the morning air and a magnetism manifests, springing from a sequence of chroma, vigor, and the bounce of a dew drop, previously hanging on a petal’s edge. The flower heads beckon me to take a moment’s repose in the cool grass to admire them. I concede. What a shame it would be to grow all of this beauty, only to stomp past day by day, grinding forward with indifference.