Choosing Beauty

My last garden foray

I ripped up a wagon of weeds.

Groaning and satisfied

 I dumped  the load upon the refuse heap.

This morning

I headed for a thistle patch

then stopped.

En route to screaming weeds

 I heard a dahlia whisper.

I thumbed my nose at duty

and pruned it

then a geranium

and hosta.

My foray finished,

I have just one bucket of

spent blooms

and spotted leaves.

This pre-fall day,

winter looming,

 beauty trumped duty

and  my burdens  are light.