Lay the Garden Bricks

Are we not simply tired

Or pushed to be unwilling?

The earth is watered

With sweat.

The garden cherry tree

Dries.

The force of the sun

Locks us to parched tongues.

There is no sound

On the winds.

We lay the garden bricks

But what comes next?

May the earth open,

Swallowing our labors.

Let us rest

In the garden we built.