my first attempt at a sestina |
Another Year's Garden I did not like the work it took to make a garden sweat oozed from my scalp in the sunshine fingernails were stained with earth knees protested at the ups and downs of planting seeds I poked and patted soil flat with my hands each row accomplished gave me growing pleasure today I think about my task complete with pleasure yesterday’s hard work, my planted garden I’m ready to admire the work of my own hands I stand, sore, shouldering my hoe, in sunshine seeing weeds that germinated, not the seeds I carefully laid out and covered with wet earth a dozen first leaves nose up through rich earth remembrances of last year’s crop a pleasure successors of spent sunflower seeds assert themselves once more in this garden urged on by watering and warm sunshine they were planted, not by mine, but by God’s hands reluctantly I pluck these invaders with my hands extracting them from incubating earth where they blatantly soaked up the bean seeds’ sunshine soon to shade new wanted seedlings out, no pleasure in the thwarting, only following their nature in the garden where anything can grow, given sun and rain and seeds each day I go and hoe and look for vines from seeds imagining beans and zucchini in my hands when all my work comes to fruition in the garden careful of the newly sprouted plants I work the earth yank weeds with abandon and with pleasure skin and muscles now accustomed to the sunshine any day now I will smile in leafy sunshine see the miracle of life, the smells and flavors sprung from seeds pick, devour a warm tomato—ah, what pleasure! the fruit of all my labor I will hold in my hands thank God for the bounty of this earth one more year to plant and glory in a garden tomatoes and melons, sunshine in my hands enough for seeds of neighborliness to spread on earth if I share my crops, my pleasure from my garden |