Garden Lesson

Always weeds
no herbicide will kill—
just break my back with gloves
and shovel, hoe and rake.

Rare the seeds,
so softly tucked with rich
invigorating dirt
and compost gently spread,

that quickly speeds
to break the soil, but
to wither in the heat
or feed the hungry bugs,

while the weeds
assassinate the rest.
(And yet I never learn,
I do it all again).

These violent deeds
waged in my garden patch
these sixty years, and still
I plant futility—

nothing intercedes.
the goat’s head and the spurge
the bindweed and the dock
shall bury me at last.

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Filed under gardening, Poetry

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