is a good thing mostly.
But it’s just like rain.
can stimulate a train of mood
that runs off the track
and kills what’s in the way.
Too little and it withers.
How much good
is enough? You can’t
know. That is the problem
with being this kind of sick.
There’s no clear path from diagnosis
to cure. It’s not like tending a garden.
No instructions for this much shade,
this much sun, this much water,
what food and how much to feed.
What triggers blight
is unpredictable except in broad terms.
Don’t push it, whatever it is,
is all you can tell yourself. And
how far is too far? Only way to know
is to watch for failure. Success
in bloom or fruit
but by dying in a reasonable season
A sigh of grieved relief
is the only validation that matters
and seeing yourself mulched
when all is done is all you can hope for.
It’s enough to know you’ve not poisoned the ground.