Grunt's Garden

So thoughtfully busily going to the tomb Were you enamored with words from the womb Verbally gurgling did you succumb Or did it come later in life Likened to lightning spelling you under Suddenly there before hearing the thunder Rapidly vapidly words in your head Were ringing and clamoring yet to be said At work in your garden editing hedge Trimming unwanted excess It smacks of sedition this growing ambition To put plants in orderly rowed inhibition Sun reaching in silent distress The beauty of discipline held up to view In close captivated submission In ranks and in rows uniformly disposed Earthbound and holding attention Yet openly Stubbornly free They continue to grow. To Flander's field poppies And crosses akin They are harvests of memory to reap Promises planted to keep