As years saunter past, you will notice,
The garden you set out to tend
Won’t end up as you figured on paper—
The crop will be quite something else.

You’ll go on to school, like they told you
And gather up all of the seeds
They say must be planted—these only—
You’ll get what they tell you you’ll need.

But you’ll wander around and you’ll gather
Other seeds ‘long the way while you stroll,
Alone with your thoughts and your journal
As you wonder if life could hold more.

But those seeds, you’ll be told, are not worthy
Of planting, they’ll most likely be
More trouble than worth, for a girl like you
Who had better stick with a sure thing.

Even so, you’ll plant all of your seeds there
—You’ll know in your heart that you should—
You’ll secretly tend with the most care
All the dear ones folks said were no good.

The school-seeds will grow fast, as promised.
The ones that you found will take long;
They’ll grow on for years, without harvest—
You’ll hear that they ought to be pulled.

Those scrub plants—so called—you will nurture,
And as years pass, they’ll be more alive
Than the seeds that were meant to support you—
As your trees crowd them out, those will die.

“They’ll give fruit in a time, if you’re lucky.
But who really ever can say?
The trees in that space are a menace;
They ruin the things that could be.”

But trees have such value, you argue,
To shelter and feed and to clean.
Our air, earth, and water—our heartland—
And our mind, they make calm and serene.

These trees can’t provide us this instant,
With everything we want and need,
But they do fight each day for a balance
Unnoticed, edge in health and peace.

It’s true, when you let a tree flourish
It can crowd out the garden below,
But the trees, I have found, have a value
Which stays—as the centuries go.