Grows to Seed

If every seed could fall on fertile earth,

the taproots all would tangle underground,

competing for the chance to show their worth

by parting up the soil, feet unbound.

The weed could swiftly swallow up the fruit,

the toxic wind along the wholesome stems,

a wanderer can quash a seeking shoot,

and common brush can bury tender gems.

But choose a plot to plant and tend it well,

and let your neighbor love it when you're gone:

your oaks and oats will soar when others fell,

and not one mustard jostle for the dawn.

Go raise a tree and dig a dusty yard:

unrank the garden for an absent bard.