Letting be

It was soon to be the end of day,

And I was exhausted.

From carrying water

Back and forth

Back and forth.

Trying to salvage a drying garden.

Even as I rooted out the weeds

Shooed away the rodents

And kept the insects at bay.

Cracked heels, calloused palms.

Lost count the number of times

The sun had traversed the skies,

As days had given way to years, 

To what now seem like eons.

Gone was the zest that accompanied the thought

That I was saving the day.

Or, maybe the garden.

So I lay down on the soft grass,

And let the wilderness take over.

Watched as the rodents came to play,

Appreciated the beauty of what is.

Let go of ideas of how it ought to be.