A Sonnet for Gardeners
While musing through the hours for that which could,
While factions strive, and conflicts ever reign,
Promote the needful cause of social good,
My thoughts will oft return to gardeners plain.
Midst fashion vain and scandaled public eye,
Midst TV guile and market search for gold,
The gardener’s quiet work does pacify
And soothe the tired heart with practice old.
Most rare the scene of brawling garden club,
Of matron fierce, or plantsman shouting doom.
No bloody bruise, at worst a quiet snub
When judges praise the neighbor’s winning bloom.
Due honor, then, to those who, stiff with toil,
Do show how well to live this mortal coil.