Twenty years have passed in one
And I leaning on my hoe, breathless
Watering the winter-dry compost heap
While my darlings do the work
Sixteen penny nail in my ribs and back
But we get it done, this last garden clearing
Though we do not know that now
Assassination of cutworms
Purging of runner grass
Planting the first hopeful peas and
Carrots
Rotten old sunflowers removed,
Ruins of cornstalks hauled to the burning
Changing of the world, blooming of the weak
Assumption of strength, surrender of pride
Survival of gardens.
Author: Duncan MacNae
Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees.
duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com
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