What is mulch but a reminder
of who we’ll become—
decaying life embalmed
in brown dye, the rest
of the world looking on.
Something once beautiful
is now dead, petrified
for appearance and vanity.
They can’t even let trees die
without an assembly line.
Still, in the midst of sadistic
beautification is something
to hope in, for dyed and dead
trees transform the landscape
so perennials can sing louder,
maybe even attract more bees.
What is now dead makes
the living world more vivid.
We did not plant the garden
but we can help it grow.