but it is what it is, this world, this sad state– yet
you tend the garden, lay bags of rocks to block

the blooming weeds from within the mulch.
You try what you can to avoid the world, but

it fights itself around you, despite the decay,
the same as yours, the aching soil, the toil

of the day, the rain and its deep clouds
becoming another pit that downs you.

(originally published in Green Hills Literary Lantern, Summer 2020)