The Disciplined Garden

There, it's decided, my hand obeying 
the gardener's implacable muse with its
pitiless eyes, espying within the orderly 
precincts of favoured perennials an intruder
uninvited and therefore cursed to the 
oblivion of swift separation from 
nurturing Mother Earth. The instant,
dismayed wilt of the sweet, tender green 
of a specimen, albeit pleasing when planted,
with the gall to replicate itself without 
prior consultation represents an intolerable 
breach of garden etiquette. So the tidily 
tender new plants eager to present 
themselves for a robust future are abruptly
disabused of the quaint sense of flora 
entitlement. For no self-respecting gardener
would permit the insouciant anarchic 
bloom of fragrant Lilies-of-the-valley, 
Bleeding Heart, Ladies Mantle and other 
self-starting enthusiasts to detract from 
the perfection of the well-ordered garden. 
Beauty of form, texture and fragrance 
aside, order must, after all, prevail.