Writing in Cadence

Casey stared at the garden in front of him with disbelief. The weeds were just as green and vibrant now as they were yesterday when he had doused them in chemicals. He reached for a garden rake and began to vigorously attack them, pulling the rake’s teeth through the greenery like he was detangling a knot in his hair. A pile of grasses and briars began to build up as he worked his way around rosebushes when he tripped on the remains of an old crepe myrtle.

“It’s going to be a long year,” he said with a sigh.