They Are Blue With Ink

pile after pile of organic earth l left alone waiting and watching for wildness to grow, nearby oh plenty of phosphorus and untreated wood shavings layer after layer for the sun and what ever water would be fallen from the uncertain sky And I called it my garden waiting and watching the uncertain naturalist So if it looked like a weed I pulled it out If it looked like a flower I left it alone And it wasn't even in my own yard Because I like to harvest the weed I do. Peace!