Soaked for over a day,The seeds hold heavenly blue promise.
Carefully nicked then planted
An inch apart in groups of four,
Caressed by the rich earth in the front corner
Just next to the chain link fence.
Seedlings emerge on schedule only to be
Ruthlessly thinned for their own good.
Each day their growth
Sends soothing green shoots of well being through my heart.
I envision the vines climbing the fence,
The eventual morning emergence of blue glory.
Pride goeth before the fall.
One fine Monday the unintentionally ruthless lawn crew
Diligently edges, edges, edges
The grassy patch of hope.
Off with their heads!
Thus occurs The Great Morning Glory Massacre of 2015.
Now I reach down into the depths of my soul
For comfort, for the right story to tell myself,
For the energy to replant.
I remind myself of various global tragedies, comparing mine.
I pause to breathe.
Then patiently explain the entire story
(Well no, the Reader’s Digest version of the story)
To Andy’s Pretty Good Lawn Service:
Offering reassurances (how were they to know?),
Receiving reassurances (they will take greater care!)
The Dalai Lama said, “Choose to be optimistic; it feels better.”
Besides, I see now that a few seedlings from the first planting survived,
No doubt hoping for companionship--
No doubt optimistic because it feels better.
