Dejectedly I ask each year
While digging in my garden plot
Why all these rocks still reappear
Despite the care I give this spot.

Each Spring I duly till the soil,
I stoop and squat, I pat and pinch;
In daily dedicated toil
I manicure each precious inch;

With loving hands I smooth the clods
And plant the hyacinths and phlox,
Then water well, invoke the gods --
Next day, alas, I find more rocks!

The same thing happens, I have found,
With newly made or lifelong friends;
Relationships will run aground
And frequently require amends.

A lesson to be learned with tears --
Those rocks and rifts do not abate;
Both friends and gardens through the years
You constantly must cultivate.

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