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.
3 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!