All I See is Weeds

On Sunday’s I’m posting poetry written by my mother-in-law, Bettie Lou. Writing poetry was a form of therapy after losing her husband and then her youngest son in 1985.

All I See is Weeds

All I see is weeds.

Why can’t I see the heron,

            The ducks in a row?

Is the sky blue? Are there

Diamonds in my lake?

            Not for me—

            Only weeds—

            Do I see.

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