Sweat drips salty tears on seedlings;
Weeds crowd close but my vicious fingers choke them,
Twist them out of their safe harbor and then
Toss
Into the wheelbarrow with other unfortunates.
I am the ruler of this world, making god-like decisions of life and death.
I wreak havoc on the hill homes of ants and burrows of worms,
My sharp shovel is my sword that brings
My edicts to fruition.
I never thought of weeding in those terms Sue...appealing for some reason. :)
ReplyDeleteThat's the way we all should go after the weeds in our lives!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great photo. Love the feeling this photo gives me. Contentment. What an accomplishment for you and whoever else is responsible for the abundant garden you harvest.
ReplyDeleteBlessings on you and yours. Barb
How funny that you would mention sweat dripping on the weeds. I tell the girls all the time that it is really a labor of love; and sweating on the plants as we weed, will make the "fruits" of our labors, taste better!!! Wonderful poem. Lizzie
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely loved this! Gardening is quite the job but the end results are so rewarding.
ReplyDeleteI have that same enamel dishpan, Sue, and those very same thoughts. I do like weeding. I know where I've been . . . and know where I'm headed next! lol
ReplyDelete