The Justice of Gardening

Gather into a pile those weeds

Now limp and brittle and dying or dead.

Torn from the dirt that nourished them at the cost of other

Beautiful, vibrant lives that enrich rather than blindly consume.

Tromp them down so that they may be bundled and placed

In the blue wheelbarrow.

Climb the terraces, pushing this funeral cart ahead of you

Sweat pouring from your face that feels somehow rejuvenating.

Overturn the wheelbarrow and spill these defilers

Into a heap to decompose and finally revive the dirt so that

Beauty may thrive.

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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