I came upon a garden

I remembered from so long ago.

The weeds had overtaken it.

The winds of time had beaten down

What might have been


Something loveable.

I took out my spade

And inch by inch

Cut away the imposters,

Preserving strong and hardy flowers.

Those which had survived

The winds of time, pestilence, and


Free at last.

Today this garden grows

Displaying colors and texture and form,

Attracting butterflies and song birds.

The weeds still appear

Every now and then and

I pluck them out


By one.

~Dottye Currin, June 2004