Garden Poems: 6/12
Nature, Garden

In the Garden of Weedin’

© Dale Harkness

A little something I thought up after spending a hot afternoon pulling weeds.

As I sat in the shade, what did I spy?
A weed sprouting up, with mischievous intent.
Pull it and stomp it, destroy it I did.
Certainly it’s gone I thought to myself,
as I plopped down to enjoy the afternoon breeze.

Before I could lean back, up they did pop,
a handful of those nasty green garden sneak thieves.
Pull ’em and stomp ’em, destroy ’em I did.
This time I got and I got good!

Back to the tree for a hasty retreat,
to drink a cold beer and relax in the shade.
I opened a brew and sat myself down,
Wanting to lounge and do nothing of measure.
As I gazed at the garden, what did I see?
Why dozens more weeds, all growing sky high!

Curse you vile weeds! Out of my patch!
I pull you and cut you from my green habitat!
I pulled and I cut, but this time I waited,
to see if those weeds would try to grow back.
Not one weed did show so I let out a shout,
I beat you I did, the last word is mine.

Turning to go back to the cool shady spot,
My eyes, they took in, an unbelievable sight.
There, under my tree, grew thousands of weeds,
Who drank down my beer and laughed heartily,
The war is not over, it’s only begun,
More of our kin will sprout up each time.

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