A day without weeds
soul choaking
brow soaking
heart strangling
weeds

They grow
slowly
almost
unnoticed
one at a time

Oh just leave that one
It’s not really
hurting anyone
and
too much effort
too much work
too much too much
to bend
and stretch
and pull it out

then one becomes
two
becomes
ten
becomes

no garden no more
not even the beauty
of the flower
that once
kissed the weeks
now
over grown and choaked
where nothing of beauty
no flox
no queen anne’s lace
not even the mayapples that come
to the forrest in spring
nothing to ease the troubled soul
now only the briars and brambles
that tear and wrent
whenever anyone tries to get near

armed with a sickle and a scythe
and just a little determination
one foot by one foot square at a time
one day by one day
first a day then a week the… who knows
they clear
and the sunlight
and the beauty
of simple wildflowers
start to creep again
I tend them
these tiny green harbingers of hope
and one by one
pull out the encroaching
strangling
hoard