When I was younger than I am now
I planted a field
Tended it to distraction
And it bloomed after years of work
Offering one flower of exquisite quality
Red petals gold-traced
Folding in white with black marks
After
I left the field fallow
I had earned a rest from the labor
And I went away
The flower's bloom still set on a shelf
People could see it and know my gardening
And I was content
But I left the field fallow
Not for the year tradition demands
But for two
And while the look of the flower is still as it was
Its scent no longer fills the air
And people do not look at it
And I suffer for it
For what have I done lately?
I am returning to that field again
It is full of weeds and debris
And I am clearing them
As I am clearing smaller plots, besides
For it is time to garden again
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