Hate

Down in the dark recesses,
first hate springs up
and, then, if not carefully tended,
crowds out all love.
Poison ivy begun in a garden
soon spreads and chokes
and crab grass once established
can’t be dug out.

Tending hate is a daily task.
It lasts from daylight to dusk,
yet is not complete
until every shoot is pulled out,
all mature plants burned…
though burning itself may not do:
smoke carries spores.

No, hate is a dangerous thing.
Birds would not sing,
if ever infected with hate,
by then too late
to do anything about it;
next flowers gone:
all the world disinfected of color
as well as song!