A Gardeners Fall

[milo]

A Gardeners Fall

I spend the day
kneeling on grass.
Bruised knuckles bent back
skin tanned by dirt.

Something feels nice about it.
Going hours with a single thought,
spotting weeds that don't belong
around flowers I've come to know.

Cuts on my hand blend old scars
from a past-life, camouflaged
in history I wish I could celebrate.
Trauma feels like a stone to shovel.

Picking rocks with my hands
then digging away the soil.
Sweat on sunned skin
cements change from then.

Then I think
it's not me I lament.

Sometimes it's takes cuts from thorns.
Planting flowers after digging up stones.
Trees knocking off your favorite hat.
Laughing in yards working with old friends.

Be open to letting shit degrade in soil,
hoping for the best this fall.

I think overall - you have a pretty strong concept here.  I especially like the penultimate line and wonder if it wouldn't be stronger to end right there - it is such a nice close.

This part here:

Cuts on my hand blend old scars
from a past-life, camouflaged
in history I wish I could celebrate.

risks over-showing the author's hand - it feels overt rather than the simple exploration of the gardening, especially the "old scars" reference which is definitely cliche.  Also, I feel like more could maybe done with the weeds than just they don't belong around flowers - sure - but really, isnt that a stronger scaffold for your metaphor than old scars?

IDK - it is coming along nicely, thanks for posting