You are just a wild weed, you little beauty Along the byways of this beaten-down trail You have caught my eye, you little blossom  You remind me of the Proverbs 31 woman The wife of the nobleman Who was clothed in fine linen of purple Her children called her blessed and she laughed at the days to come She was strong and vigorous No hand nurtured you, my little one No gardener tended to you Yet you flourish Your stalks are strong and you are here in this big world, doing it all by yourself No one will pluck you,…