The Ironic Agronomist Poem by Terrance Tracy

In the sweltering, heat of summer the young agronomist meticulously constructed plots that were sure as the beat of a drummer.

All edges square and level there would be no need for a shovel; the simple trowel for the hovel is all that would be required to display earthly beauty for he accomplished his duty.

The neighbors watched as he sowed his seed in the plots of ground for flowers to be found the neighbors thought how profound.

The greenery that grew the agronomist knew his efforts were true, to their chagrin the neighbors stuck out their chin chiding he must begin again.

Year after year, the grass grew tall until the fall with no flowers to show, tall grass and weeds was all that would appear.

There came a shower by happenstance the flower did appear but the agronomist donned his gloves and plucked it from the plot murmuring what you are doing here.

The agronomist looked at the flower and was very sour, as he threw the flower to the ground, uttering you have no business here.

For what neighbors did not know was that the agronomist donned his gloves to pull weeds and that is what he loved.

Terrance Tracy