The sun ascends, the tools are keen,
To tame the wild, unruly scene.
With rakes and shears, and spade in hand,
I dig and trim across the land.
The grass gives way, the weeds retreat,
Beneath the sun\'s persistent heat.
A leaf falls here, a branch snaps there,
Each effort cleans the burdened air.
Then slowly, surely, it begins—
A sturdy ache beneath the skin.
My back protests, a weary hum,
My fingers stiff, my shoulders numb.
My body whispers, \"Rest your frame,\"
A chorus rising, naming pain.
Each muscle twinges, tight and sore,
Demanding quiet, nothing more.
But step back now, and cast an eye,
Upon the space beneath the sky.
The untamed sprawl, now meek and neat,
A verdant carpet for the feet.
The borders sharp, the colors bright,
Bathed in the soft, approving light.
A clean-lined path, a vibrant bed,
Where order reigns, and beauty\'s spread.
And though my body aches and strains,
A deep contentment softly gains.
The weary protest, truly heard,
But in its echo, a sweet word:
For pride expands, the spirit lifts,
Among these green and ordered gifts.
It felt so good, the labor done,
Beneath the setting, golden sun.
And oh, the difference truly gleams—
A yard made new, beyond my dreams.