As a result of one of Jena Schwartz's "Dive into Poetry" emails during April, that started with a quote from Jane Kenyon about being a "patient gardener of a dry and weedy garden"

This was my response.

I am a gardener of sorts,
sorts of effort,
sorts of random effects,
sorts of plants whose
names I never remember,

But as I rake and bag winter

I begin sorting greeness
by degrees of silky newness
by their effortless effort
shouldering brown sideways
to the edges of vision.

Exhausted by bending and the scrabbling of my fingers,
I drag over the hose
sit down, and watch
the sunlight sparkle liquied jewels,
turning dust to black magic
and even bolder green.