So I Ponder

So, I Ponder. . . . .

As the month of March comes to its end

I mow a client’s lawn and notice

Acorns and leaves do fall

And my thoughts begin to form.

Days are shorter, nights are long

And soon daylight savings will end;

So, I ponder and contemplate the mystery

That everything has their end

From plants, to the grass I mow

I consider, all things have their season

Some plants a show of colour bright

Others not; but when one looks they are

At their best; like the grass (or lawn)

Which grows ready to be clipped;

So, I ponder and contemplate the mystery

That everything has their end

The Yellow flowers in their lawn

Puffs of gold; then I cut them to rest

But if they be in the garden

I’d wait - until I have fork and trowel

Be on my knees (say a prayer of thanks)

And remove them to the bin;

So, I ponder and contemplate the mystery

That everything has their end

I wonder, why there is this passion

To preserve and keep what we plan

Yet, we know things come to an end.

Time and strength spent to weed and sow

To admire lovingly kept lawns and gardens

When there’s no guarantee they will be kept;

So, we ponder and contemplate the mystery

That everything has their end

By Stephen Douglas

©stephen c douglas; 02 April 2016