I died of a broken heart
\nlong ago.
\nWeeds replaced me.
\nAnd being ignored
\nthey made a garden by themselves.<\/p>\n
Each one sought their place.
\nBy a rock,
\nalong the walk,
\nby cans and stones,
\nuntil after days and months and years,
\nthere were among them,
\nviolets and dandelions,
\ngoldenrod and thistles,
\ncrabgrass with its crotch,
\nlambs quarters with leaves
\nthe shape of harps.<\/p>\n
Young trees starting here and there,
\nmaple and mulberry,
\nelm, locust,
\nand somehow
\nthey resembled a heart
\nlooking for itself,
\ntelling the soul to come back.<\/p>\n
Such a quiet, joyful place was here,
\nwith crickets and grasshoppers,
\nbutterflies competing with the bees.
\nAs if starting over
\nbegan each day,
\na new face on things,
\nreason enough for any hour,
\nwhat with morning sun
\nand evening shade,
\nand a way of growing
\nthat puts things back together.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I died of a broken heart long ago. Weeds replaced me. And being ignored they made a garden by themselves. Each one sought their place.…<\/p>\n