I see a mess
The garden is weed
Rocks sit as innocent as icebergs
They create infertility and broken backs
But there is no other space
And sustenance must be procured
One weed
One stone
One rock at a time
They must be destroyed
removed
vanquished
crushed or banished
It starts slowly
Painfully
The overwhelm of where to start causes procrastination
But there is nothing to fear
You can start where you stand
Little Wren 