[Critique Group 2] Leonard's submission for Tuesday night

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

167 words

A Price to Pay

 

Yesterday and the day before,

my scarred, wrinkled, age-worn hands worked

the cold dark Earth of middle March,

digging and pulling lush chickweed,

whose pertinacious roots grow deep --

its tiny greedy rambling leaves

claiming every patch of soil.

 

These hands and wrists once invincible,

these arms that once knew no limits,

now strain in miserable pain

and become fatigued too quickly

in these early morning freezes.

 

Though I am old and declining,

my garden is forever fresh.

But its beauty would be blighted,

were it not for care and toil.

 

Last night my body protested

the waking hours’ hard labor,

rousing me at four in the morning

to exact payment for misuse,

denying me the peace of sleep.

 

And yet, today I labor on,

fearing the toll that must be doled.

How powerful the luring call

to one who would work a planting bed,

that he would sacrifice his slumber

and his body’s normal comforts

for the sake of his dream garden.
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