An Abandoned Garden The Society September 25, 2012 Poetry By Robert Crawford By August I noticed the lack of care, And now in September I feel the despair; The rusting tools, the vanished rows, Reveal an all too brief affair. The hopeful beginning has come to a close As a meeting place for sinister crows And devious weeds planning for when They’ll make this a plot where anything goes. What kind of errant husbandman Would let it fall to field again? I think I know, I’ve met a few: A fine egalitarian— The type of man, a touch askew, Who holds the universal view, “To everything, a heart be true,” But saves desertion just for you. © 2001; originally printed in Troubadour: Best of Rhyme. Related Post ‘Hope’ and Other Poetry by Neil Dachstadter Hope What task be done, you thought was not? What asked and sought, forgot, was wrought? What strain was set against a blow? As gain unfet... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.