Today it slipped into my daughter,
the seed that all is not right in the world.
In a matter of hours, already
the tap roots had grown beyond
my ability to pull them out.
I wonder if I have been wrong
to keep her garden so tidy.
I wonder how to best teach her
to tend her own rows.
It will be endless now,
the onslaught, as every gardener knows.
And there is some pleasure in tending.
I think of how I would rather
be aware of all that grows.
I think of how sometimes
we change our minds
about what is wanted
and what is a weed.
Some part of me longs
to swing the sun back to yesterday.
Some part of me rejoices
that now all the world
is her garden.