Weeds and Wild Flowers (edit and new Title)

[Bobby Francis]

Weeds and Wild Flowers

4x8’ beds raised and lacking 
tomatoes or beans, or even
the cooperative zucchini
tending to the wretched
 
dead nettle and spotted spurge
I turned towards wild flowers; 
a sprinkling of a mixture sown 
 
with such anticipation of sprouting
that might lend itself
to an easier harvest.  Each morning searched
 
for tender shoots, the waving hands
of young dicots of the wanted;
but these feral grounds, they confuse
 
growing comingled; anonymous,
allowed to fester 
among the greater good; free
to steal sunlight,
divert nutrient soil,
pilfer the kindness from rain.
 
What to cull 
when each bright sprout might be nothing
but promise?
 
Keenly I analyze
each developing pattern of leaf,
stalk and form to determine
its future worth, but each grows 
 
green as the next, tall as the next.
Tight little fists budding determination,
weed and wild flower.  I find myself lost
 
in the anticipation, exploration,
the ongoing blooming
kaleidoscope of simple truths.

Wild Weeds of the Northeast Sanctuary

This summer due to my lack
of growing tomatoes, or beans,
or even the ever abundant
zucchini, I tend my garden
of two, 4x8’ raised beds, towards
wild flowers.  A sprinkling, I feel,
 
of a mixture sown with such anticipation
of sprouting might lend itself
to an easier harvest.  Each morning I look
 
for tender shoots trying to distinguish
the young dicotyledons of the wanted
from the others--
but these feral grounds, they confuse.
 
How to cull 
when each bright sprout might be nothing
but promise?
 
When they grow comingled; anonymous
interlopers free to fester 
among the greater good;
free to steal
sunlight, nutrient soil,
a watering rain?  With a keen eye,
 
each developing pattern of leaf,
stalk and form is analyzed to determine
a future worth, but each grows
 
green as the next, tall as the next
all budding tight little fists
of defiance.  I find myself lost
 
in the anticipation, in the exploration,
in the ongoing blooming
kaleidoscope of simple truths.

Not sure anyone will be happy with this edit!  Sorry Mark, went from 6 stanzas to 9.  Not sure why this is in BOLD.

Since someone else suggested pruning, I’d like to add some pruning too, which might seem awkward coming from a guy who just posted 500 word 8 part poem, but let me give  a couple pruning if it doesn’t seem too hypocritical. 

This passage’s poetic character, is my view with further pruning. 

Your version as I see it today: 

with such anticipation of sprouting
that might lend itself
to an easier harvest.  Each morning searched

Let’s eliminate unnecessary words if we can. 

Try this, 

Anticipation sprouts (Sprout anticipation, could be interesting phrasing here as well).
Might lend itself
Easier harvests
Mornings searched. 

Now that might give the original passage a slightly new meaning, but it’s at least a good exercise to explore this.I think feels more poetic like this.