We live in gardens that we tend.
Sometimes we reap & also rend.
We feed the soil blood, sweat & tears.
Compost the past for future years.
We scatter seed, bulb & tuber.
Spring brings hope & blossom’s rumor.
Rains & hoses flesh out green cells.
Drooping & dripping heavy bells.
The mornings warm before too late.
Held breath for fruit & flower’s fate.

