Weeding

so much suffering

born from the habits

of being alive

fingers green

with the blood of plants

brown with the blood of earth

sorting life and death

for a vision of the garden

after the big sweep

pulled sprouts wilt

in a pile for the bin

shocked worms

who long for the cool underside

twist tossed in sunlight

white roots invert

dandelion tufts

compete with

grass to define

what’s beautiful

what’s yours

what’s not