Some are deceiving
Masquerading
As another one
Of the flowers
Hiding their roots
Amongst the foliage
Of otherwise
Healthy plants
And once unable
To contain
Their original intent
Begin showing
Tiny glimpses
Of green
Peeking through
In an attempt
To steal sunlight
From the buds
Preparing to open
Tricky they are
These weeds
Precision is required
To squash any
Irreparable damage
They might cause
It’s hard work
Pulling them out
By their roots
But only after
The labor is done
Will the heart
Be able to heal
And love bloom
Any guesses as to what I did this morning? I have no green thumb, but I enjoy the flowers in our front flowerbed. So, this morning I decided to pull weeds and do some trimming. Whew! What a job!
It seemed like each time I pulled weeds from an area, more would appear. And certain ones, well, their roots were strong. I’m not sure I got them all. Truthfully, I know I didn’t. But it did make me think about my heart.
It is easy to allow weeds to get in, tying me in knots. Wrapping around the good, trying to stifle it with confusion, anger, or impatience. A simple reminder to keep doing the hard work. And then stand back and enjoy the flowers. 🌸
Beautiful! Nature has such beauty for us and she always shows us a way to see ourselves and the world. The metaphors are endless! A lovely poem to bring us home to ourselves. Pulling weeds is so therapeutic. ❤️
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A wonderful reminder, so naturally told!
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Thank you, Becky! ☺️
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You’re so welcome!
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Kelley, I’ll never forget my Grandma, and my Mom, pulling weeds. Hence, I follow. It just feels good, even if tiring, to think we’re keeping the good things protected! Your words are always so beautiful. 💛
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I’m always thankful for your reflections. It means so much. 🤗
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It’s my pleasure and I’m so happy to share. 💚🤗
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