The Garden Grows

I grow flowers.

No, I shovel manure.

I haul buckets,

the latest rot of the day

and feed my garden.

I plant seeds.

No, I mound soil.

I pile amendments

it looks like a shallow grave

and ready my garden.

I grow seedlings.

No, I pull weeds.

They creep in at night

I toss them by day

and clean my garden.

I shovel manure.

No, I grow flowers.