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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2188282
by Tinker
Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2188282
There is always something to tend to.
Weeds In My Garden

Sunday, the sun made a visit,
the air was washed
and I spent much of the day
outside, pulling weeds.

I sit, I don't kneel anymore,
God doesn't ask
my body to be humble,
just my heart,
besides, there's nothing more humbling
than arthritic knees
and a body getting old.

The weeds pulled up easily,
the earth was soft,
it had rained
the previous three days.
I filled my lungs
with unblemished air,
the ocean breeze
cooled my skin,
while sweat seeped from my pores
from the Spring sun's zeal.

Nature renews,
I keep getting older
and there are always weeds to be pulled.
                    ~~ Judi Van Gorder

Notes:
© Copyright 2019 Tinker (tinker1111 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2188282