Weeding

June 1, 2017

The wanderer's backyard

I try to keep my garden

of optimism neat,

but pesky pessimistic weeds

make it a grueling feat.

The vines they come a-creeping

ere my hands have left the ground,

smothering my flowers

every time I turn around.

I plant new seeds and watch them

as they wither and decay;

I prune my plants with care

and sigh as each leaf falls away.

I dig and dig but ne'ertheless

the weeds invade once more,

till eventually I fear I'll be

consumed by this wretched chore.

And then one day a bird alights

beside me in my garden:

it pecks and plucks the rotten weeds

and my flowers bloom again.

In other news, Phillop the lopsided willow has almost reached the ground, and the chipmunks are merrily larking about as usual. Life prevails, weeds or no.