Seem to shine as if they had been polished, perhaps
By giant hands, and the oaks and the elms birth
New buds. Everywhere I look, life continues.
The winter chores I didn’t get to come to mind.
I meant to trim the peach tree,
And I meant clear out some undergrowth.
Instead, I was sick and wrote a lot of poems.
But why beat myself up for that? Poetry
Outranks yard work; everyone knows that.
I’ll let Mother Nature order the yard around.
02 Apr 2019