Garden Lessons


I bend into the dirt.
The warm soil invites
tomatoes, gopher traps,
onions, weed pulling,
Zucchini, drip hoses.
Oh, the thoughts
of poetry reading!
The season declares
me squatting and digging,
not into books
but into raised beds.
Winter was good
to leaf lettuce.
When I am stiff,
I stand and watch hawks.
In my own time
all had gardens,
paced the evenings
on a patio chair,
no thing electronic
could speak to us
of our essence.
Sundays we heard
the love messages,
sometimes messed up,
but knew gardens
grew living things,
knew we were
living things.

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