The Tediocity of Gardens
If it must be raking, then its patterns to display
the topography of an uneven lawn.
Or it's a rumba with the rake.
It's dare devil trails around the smallest shoots
and immediate replanting
when you miss the curve.
If it's pruning, its a topiary haircut
On a ladder, it's a stretch defying gravity.
It's a discovery of three robust snails
against the wall with such passionate
puckering they've been stuck for hours
Then you wink and press on..
If it's leaky hoses, missing parts and rusty tools
its a hardware trip and a flip of an empty
three-in-one oil can,
in an ambidextrous pitch
from behind the back.
And time to stop for lunch. Then it's
reorganize the shed with hooks for
every shovel ever tripped over
getting to the mower.
And when they ask what's been done?
You smile with the first Saturday of Spring
and have to confess "Everything! - but
nothing's bloomed yet."
If you've a comment on her poem, L.Fullington
would be pleased to hear from you.