Some Questions I Have

What do my plants think of me?

We want you here–

but not there!

And please,

don’t climb up that fence.

Oh, how they must be so confused!

What does a worm look like

under the soil?

It is never seen there.

Only lifted

from its moist womb,

laid out in daylight,

squirming with impressive speed

beneath a sun it has no interest in.

I imagine it moves with ease in the dark underneath.

The compost pile often receives the usual suspects.

Papaya seeds, coffee grounds,

eggshells, and kale stems.

Do they become acquainted with each other,

like regulars at a restaurant?

Or do they eagerly await new friends–

overtaken with excitement upon the arrival of an apple core,

or carrot top?

And the weeds.

The weeds are the easiest to judge.

I don’t ask what they’re called.

I only know

they aren’t supposed to be there.

But aren't they absolutely supposed to be there?

Their presence may come

at the cost of plants I favor,

but is it not somewhat silly

to pamper the flowers with utmost care

whilst pulling the thistle without pause?

Parker Press