the big drain

I walk past a big storm drain every morning on my way from the bus stop to the office.  It is  muddy after a heavy downpour with water gushing through, or its dirty and smelly and someones idea of a dustbin. 

But every few weeks or so flowers grow on the side.  There are men that come and slash away at the grass verge and the edges of the drain to  flatten anything that dares grow taller than a few inches.  but between the vicious sessions of blade through grass, the flowers appear almost in defiance.......