Once again I resort to my less than off-the-cuff writing. Due to one-handedness, I’m posting some of my Odes to the Everyday. Until my one-handedness improves, I will be doing the simpler stuff, like “Copy and Paste,” instead of stream-of-consciousness writing. Do I hear sighs of relief, or some heartfelt “Awwww’s?” Anyway, as this is a gardening and reaping time of year, I present to you my. . .
Ode to My Black Thumb
Whenever I take a morning walk
On a bright and sunny day
I usually take the time to talk
to my plants along the way.
I speak with gentle tone, for
They’re dying from neglect
There’s much I must atone for-
They’ve lacked for my respect.
For though each seed was planted
With all my best intent
It seems I took for granted
That they would be content
To grow, without a second thought
from me to fill their needs
and do the daily things I ought:
Adding water and pulling weeds.
The day of reckoning is here
I bow my head in shame
Before the ones I held so dear
And to each gave a name.
Of these withered leaves I ask:
Forgive, please, my mistake!
No more will I take on a task
That needs a hoe or rake.
Vowing this, my slate is clean –
My floral sins forgiven.
And so, to keep my garden green
To this idea I’m driven:
(And pardon me if this sounds sarcastic) –
From here on in, I’m buying plastic!
So, with my UNusual brevity, I conclude, wishing you all enough. . .