Down on the flatland or up on a hill,
Gardeners are doing what gardeners will.
They’re clipping and snipping, sizing things right,
Pruning that rhodie to let in some light.
They’re forking the compost, talking to worms,
Pleased as can be with so many squirms.
They’re seeding and weeding, thinning sweet peas,
With sun on their backs and dirt on their knees.
They’re off to those classes on how to plant masses
Of dahlias and roses and even the grasses.
They’re stalking and spying, looking for bugs
Taking great pleasure in squashing those thugs.
They’re picking and plucking good things that they
grow. Vegetables, vegetables, row after row.
Over the fence, they’re waving hello. How is your garden, they’re wanting to know.
Yes, down on the flatland or up on the hill,
Gardeners are gardening as gardeners will.
An Original Poem by Nancy Berry
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Gardeners are Gardening
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