I always thought gardening
was a slow lumber
in the dirt
a hobby for old
clump-shaped people
a patient
repetitive
toil.
I am not to blame.
It was given the wrong name
like calling a shark
a fish.
Gardening
has nothing to do
with gardens.
It is sleight of hand
illusion, hot wet
underground alchemy
where secrets are whispered
to wisps of seeds
shocking
them into bouquets.