As I read the seating chart to my sunflowers
I reflect how teaching is like gardening:
How the principle of growth is in each sapling,
Ready to produce stems, leaves, flowers, thorns
If nourished according to its secret preference;
How each blooms in its season, though some need
Less coaxing than others -- God knows
There are no weeds, only certain specimens who
Volunteer too much. As I drench my tomatoes
I wonder, Am I spoiling them? Have I bred
Complacency in the roots? Fertility is not scarce
To them who seek it, but barren the earth to those
Who never pushed for their nutriment. As I
Twine the vine, correct the espalier, I think
How endless the work of civilizing, how
Impossible my art, how free.