HOE'S BLADE

This garden was so well begun
fresh ground broken fine and deep
beneath a free and warming sun
after winter's dark cold sleep

Laid out with a studied eye
each seed planted in it's perfect row
fertilized beneath an azure sky
a few storms, and it began to grow

Each sprout came up green and strong
unmarred by either storm or pest
thinking nothing could go wrong
we decided it was time to rest

Our minds turned to another chore
(something always requires our toil)
Tasks revealed behind each opened door
while unwanted seeds hid in the soil

Too much time, too much neglect
allowed too many weeds to grow
now the garden's nearly wrecked
but hope remains there even so

Now it's time the weeds are smote
well past time to wield the hoe
whose blade is the free man's vote
to all weeds, it's time to go