I return to the garden 
after a season
of supporting
those who must

matter most right 
now. Last week, I felt 
like Atlas, not quite 
holding the entire 

world on my back,
but convinced it
would crash down
around me if I

didn’t keep straining
and pushing and 
advocating change.
It has been necessary,

exhausting work, but I
turn back now to the 
business of mowing
and weeding and filling

bird feeders.  By day’s
end, I will be coated
with sweat.  Bits of grass,
twigs, dirt, bugs 

stamped on my skin, 
joiners to the cause.   
And I will stink.
I will stop because 

the sun is fading or 
because I am hungry or
tired, but not because
the job is done.

Tomorrow there will 
be more necessary, 
exhausting work that 
is mine to do.  


© 2020 Deb Moore, All Rights Reserved