Weeding
Weeding
The rocks under my knees
keep me grounded
as I pull up grass
and weeds
that have grown
between the cucumbers
and green beans.
I really need to weed
the zucchini,
I mutter
under my breath.
Still pulling.
Still yanking.
Observing exactly
what I am uprooting
from the earth.
I can’t help
but feel empathy
for those plants
I hurt.
5 thoughts on "Weeding"
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grounding
I love this poem that is so rich with detail about something much more than weeding.
Mmm yes because no such thing as a weed. I hear you. Greetings from the goatweed crabgrass and random purple flotsam I pulled out of my dirt pile this morning 🙂
lovely moment with your words, thank you!
I too sometimes worry about the morality of deciding which plants live and which ones die. I know other garudeners who feel the same
The way you move from the physical act of weeding to feeling empathy for the plants you’re uprooting is really moving. The rocks under your knees keeping you grounded is a nice touch.