The mortar trowel
I found in my brother's garage clean out
following his death,
has found new life with me
in my garden.
The smallish wooden handle
fits my fist.
When my right hand
stabs the earth
the sharply pointed flat blade
makes digging
among stones less troublesome.
Some store bought plants,
some from seed
handed down through the years
replace the stones and dirt.
"grow fast little plant"
It is like this year after year,
come to the end of planting
and begin again
a round of weeding.
Why is it, I wonder
the weeds always get to the
water and nutrients first.
Most years barely enough,
some years not enough,
to go around.
My plants, so carefully placed,
suffer most.
The weeds thrive on.
Always, the weeds thrive on.
Grow fast little plant
your roots must out grow the weeds
if you want to survive.
