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 "Horticulture is a groping in the dark
into the obscure and unfamiliar " James Tate,
from his poem, The Definition Of Gardening
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There is an art to gardening, yes there is
I like to create a beautiful display
in sundress and gardening gloves
I gather all my tools and seeds
and say, "lets get growing beautiful"
and I start to dig and weed and sweat
"this is hard work and I need a break"
so on the porch I sip lemonade . . . .
the cat is digging holes for me, what!
stop that you fluffy pest
then its back to work for me
and finally I am throwing seeds
all willy-nilly with no idea of what will grow
and then I wait and wait and wait
a big thunder storm one night
oh how horrible the pain of destruction
in the morning I am a babbly fool
"are you safe my little seedlings dears"
thank the gods there is no drowning
shrivelling or withering to be found
you see-   I am like their parent
and want them to grow up strong
the days pass and the porch swing creaks
and then one glorious day my dream 
is a garden growing in rainbow colors
but their is one slight problem
don't ask me what I planted.

______________________
October 28, 2016

Poetry/Free Verse/The Gardener
Copyright Protected, 16-844-160-0
All Rights Reserved, 2016, Constance La France


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