The Wall and the Wild

At the end of Ironbark Way, the town of Stone Hollow edges against the WILD.
There, Ana turns a patch of bare earth. Seed by seed, drop by drop, Ana grows a garden. Lovely, tidy, and thick with life.
“Perfect,” she says.

She wants to keep it that way, so Ana picks out the most perfect-seeming seeds. “Not too big. Not too small. No breaks. No bruises.”
The rest she throws into the untidy WILD.

“YOU, stay out THERE.”

Ana lines the boundary between her orderly patch and disorderly WILD.

Ana’s garden grows.
And grows.
And grows.
Leafy trees, tasty fruits and vegetables, sweet-smelling flowers.
Birds, bees, and butterflies hum. Critters, some with four legs, some with more, nibble. People stop to look.

Yes, Ana grows a WONDROUS garden, but-

“What’s this?” she asks. “I didn’t plant you.” Ana plucks and pitches the unfamiliar sprout.
Then she picks through her seeds.

“Too dull. Too round.
Too thin. Too tough.”

More fly into the grubby WILD.
“YOU, stay out THERE.”
Ana builds her boundary a little higher.

Ana’s garden grows.
And grows.
Less leafy, less tasty, less sweet-smelling.
Fewer birds, bees, and butterflies hum. Fewer critters nibble. Fewer people visit.

Ana trims and thins, and pinches and prunes, but “More of you?” she asks. “Not here, you don’t.”

Ana tugs and tosses the unwanted shoots, then picks through her seeds.

“Too bright.
Too thick.
Too flat.
Too soft.”

“YOU. STAY. OUT. THERE.”
Most soar into the messy WILD.
Ana builds the boundary as high as she can-
Until she has a MIGHTY WALL.