Concrete Road (a Poem by Cathy Gruman)

As the wind blows this way and that,
does it have a different meaning in each direction?
As a life unfolds in all of its splendor,
can it follow the path of the wind and still be whole?
Or, must it stay on the concrete road that never curves or bends,
but cracks with the weed popping through it.
It seems to me that a weed popping through it
shows many splendors of its own;
for what a glorious fight it must have shown
to show its tiny head through such a heavy load
and still have that color of a flower of its own.