Weeds

The crops are nearly ready now,
They are no longer seeds.
The reaper will be coming soon,
To separate the weeds.

For weeds do nothing for the crop,
They only block the sun,
As they spread across the garden,
Until its overrun.

When the garden is corrupted,
The harvest has a cost,
The crops defiled by the weeds,
Are almost always lost.

The only purpose weeds have served,
Outside of the brier,
Is mulch to fertilize the earth,
Or fuel for a fire.

So, on the day the harvest comes,
The crops and weeds will learn,
If they're the good crop set aside,
Or will they simply burn.

This is the garden of our Lord,
And each of us, its seeds.
The reaper will be coming soon,
To separate the weeds.

This poem won first place for the July 2023 poetry contest