Poetry
Time
Jun 12, 2022
--
My garden is lushly overgrown
and not the mess you think it is
despite
jiggly rows, meandering paths,
and happy slugs,
because
it thrives on love and shit
and I would not tame it
if I could change it.
The pansies and the kale
like it where they are
and
the bunnies approve
and
we eat well
so what does it matter
if I can’t always find the potatoes
in orderly progressions
growing obediently.
At the end of the season
our gardens all look
exactly the same.
If you like this poem, find it and more in my new book, The Radicalization of Old Women, on Amazon.
