Pulling Weeds from the Cracks in my Brick Sidewalk – a poem by Harold Whisman

In early April,
after a hard rain,
I spent an entire
afternoon pulling
weeds from the cracks
in my brick sidewalk.
I have my doubts 
about how useful
this will be 
since the weeds,
like my deep-rooted 
sins, always return.
I have tried everything, 
even toxic weed killers,
without success.
It might be months, 
but the weeds 
always return,
mocking my
foolish effort.  
I use a trimmer
to hold them at bay, 
but modern technology 
can only do so much.
Since it is spring and
a time for a new start,
I ask for the strength
to make an exchange: 
My weak faith will gain
the weeds' strong persistence
while my steadfast sins
will gain my many doubts.

Harold Whisman is a retired English and journalism teacher for Norfolk Public Schools in Virginia.  In his “golden years” he helps babysit his grandchildren for their working parents and writes poetry.  He finds both jobs often frustrating but also very rewarding.  His poems have been published in Ancient Paths and Better than Starbucks literary magazines.

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