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!
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