Gardening at night

She plants her seeds
Sown into the rich fertile sky
One by one
Tiny specks gathered
The fruit of past dreams
Saved for today.
She waters with rain
Tending gently
Each shoot that flies free
Of the midnight garden
Watching the wind carry
The flicker across
Her universe.
She sings a quiet song
Lullabies to send
Into slumber
Each precious bit
Every small piece
The dreams to grow strong
To fall from their sacred place,
Spread upon the world
The harvest of wishes and goodness,
Bounty from the place of stars,
Warmed by the distant sun
Sheltered by the glow
Of the watchful moon.

Photo found at:

Deep below

Reaching into the darkness
hands move around
fingers touching
tearing at the roots
running so deep.
Worms squirm past
dirt crumbles to the ground
so hard the muscles quiver
against the mighty
deep below.
Sweat on brow
wiped away to return
moments later in this inferno
almost there
neck muscles strain
back aces from the attempt
to free this.
Falling backwards
landing on damp ground
machines come through
sap runs like blood
from blister
free at last.

I wrote this as a whim after just spending an hour weeding what no one in their right mind would call a garden. It is funny that the hardest things to pull out are tiny maple trees that stand about 8 inches tall. Tenacious little beasts but I don’t think they belong below my deck. I do like trees, don’t get me wrong but I don’t think the deck would withstand the ultimate growth spurts of the future sapling. Photo looks like me after a sweaty day weeding too. Infinite humor abound today.