Weeding

Kneeling on this
Sun-baked square
Back aching
Between straight rows
I slowly tease
The interloper free
Dividing friend from foe
Tracing backwards
Till I find at length its origin
Buried deep beneath.

This work can not be hurried
Go too quickly
All you do is
Surface work
Snap a dubious vine or two
You gain only temporary victory
The deeper threat remains
Insidious
Prepared once more to spread
Its sinewy embrace

I ask myself how often
I have moved too fast
Broken off a troubling shoot
Triumphantly
All the while avoiding
The deeper work
Which only comes
On dirt-stained knees
And with great patience.