Spring Yardwork: Poetry Muse


I spent the morning
in glorious sunshine
and with a cacophony of birdsong
to serenade me.
No insects (yet)
to harass me,
it was perfect gardening weather.

After the weeding
and mulching
and raking
and trimming
and hauling
and watering
I stopped for the day.

It felt good to work in the soil,
to feel the breeze
and hear the birds.
The next tasks of my day await.
Time to move on…

My muddy boots
are drying on the snow boots rack.
My wet gardening gloves
are spread out across the snow shovel blade.

I smile.
This truth comes to mind:
There’s a season for everything
and a time for every matter under the heavens

Eccl. 3:1

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