Gardening

Noon slips by,
as does the two
o'clock hour and not
much has been done.
It's that kind of day.
The stream outside
my window has moved
an ocean of water
past me, the leaves
are floating lazily
to the lawn,
but I sit here,
typing, pondering my
next move, my own
new season
where I'll prune
the unruly branches,
clear the brush, cut
those weeds and vines,
turn the soil to plant
at least one good seed.