The Poet as Gardener

The page as blank as fallow field
until a seed takes sprout. With bloom
there comes a crop of thorns,
some weeds, maybe an aphid or two,
to mar the petals’ silk,

But look!
The rose stands stately, bright.
Such is the creation that we crave,
Reason enough to prune, and weed.
and graft.

There is joy in the crafting.
The constant tending, even when
flowering is no more than dream.
We’re gardeners all
in quest of the impossible perfection,

4 thoughts on “The Poet as Gardener

  1. BoardFlak

    Poets may always be in search of perfection, but I have to think it would look a lot like this. Well done, Sarah.

    The opening line reminded me of “Edifice Complex”, one of the first poems I posted when I rejoined The Peaceful Pub; of course there, I used the idea of constructing a building.

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