Sower
I’ll plant these few
seeds on a blank
sheet
set them in rows
and hill the page
up around them
a little water
some fresh fish guts
a fence to keep out
critters
a lot of waiting,
watching it rain
from the window
early June
morning,
on hands and knees,
I’ll check young
sprouts to see
which ones
are words,
which ones
are weeds.
9 thoughts on "Sower"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
With so many competing ideas for us writers, especially in this month (for me at least), the only thing we can do sometimes is wait to see what gets nourished the most. You’ve captured this universal feeling well.
love chafing the words from the weeds
Yes! Writing can be like gardening! This poem is words—not weeds! I enjoyed this. I’m glad you didn’t mention pruning—that’s the hardest part!
Fabulous.
I want a broadside of this to look at in my office/gardening room!
Great metaphor and conciseness.
such a gentle poem
This is lovely! I especially love the last two stanzas.
Which ones are words, and which ones are weeds. Great metaphor and so true.
Love poems that convey the experience of poetry! Thank you.