Thursday, March 28, 2019

Waiting for the gardener (Day 799)

Waiting for the gardener, amidst tangles 

of weeds, unpruned vines, ivy 

invading my yard, green interweaving gray 

fence posts into a rugged raft.

The gardener will prune and mow, tidy 

and sculpt, methodically unravelling 

knotted brambles, artfully arranging 

this muddled acre. Still, 

as he arrives at the weathered gate, 

I hesitate, certain that, if they could 

speak, my wilding masses would say:

We prefer nature’s order to your chaos.

But, while the birds (and I) 

would ardently agree, how my neighbors 

would react is hardly a mystery. 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

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