I weed my garden every day,
\npulling out the crabgrass,
\nthistle, wild violet.
\nThey are comrades to be sure.
\nAm I not a weed,
\ngrowing up by chance
\nin wind and rain?
\nSo I understand
\nhow right they are to bloom,
\nto spread their flowers,
\nopen themselves to the sky,
\nand a right to be left alone.
\nSomeday I will stop
\npulling them up.
\nLike a lover of life
\nwho avoids stepping on ants.<\/p>\n
I will leave them be,
\nand thank Providence
\nthat I wasn\u2019t weeded
\nbefore I could know love,
\nwrite a poem,
\nbuild a place to sit
\nand look over things
\nwith a glass of beer,
\nfriends,
\nand ignore the midnight
\nthat will pull its cover over me.
\nSomeday,
\na voice might whisper,
\nI\u2019ve let you be.
\nI do not weed my children anymore.
\nSleep,
\nand leave your seed behind,
\nthistle, crabgrass, and wild violet
\nto delight me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I weed my garden every day, pulling out the crabgrass, thistle, wild violet. They are comrades to be sure. Am I not a weed, growing…<\/p>\n