Life’s Weeds Wedge Enduring Seeds

To occupy the baggy days,

As Laing did with her gardening,

You origami lines instead,

Pleating, creasing, and sharpening

The minimal information

Typical of the lyric form

The way one might fold a napkin

To make a pointed corner firm

Enough to pick out seedy bits

Stuck in the teeth after lunch.

Shouldn’t that be what writing’s for?

To repurpose a flimsy hunch

To dig out some kind of nuisance

That starts trivial but can mess

With your focus and happiness,

Your health and life, left unaddressed?

It rarely works. The ad-hoc tools

Of napkins, poems, or greenhouse peat

Disintegrate. Weed seeds wedge deep.

But, hey, you filled some time at least.