The yard is a tangle
Blades of green intertwine
With the indigenous clover
Shading the cat paw pathways.
It is a brilliant day,
Cutting weeds away to feel human.
Taking the home back from the wild,
Stirs duplexity into the soul.
There is pride under the canopy,
But as well, all life is precious.
From those plants that heal to those
That, wild as they are, feed the bees.
The tangle uprooted, raked into piles.
I give them back to the earth under
Cover of darkness and moisture,
Perhaps next year– butterflies.
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