the children open eyes wide
as grey winds billow thru the alley
finally they believe me that our food
becomes deep rich earth—
a transformation they would not accept
the centipedes and earthworms rejoice
in my work
as I bucket up their troping of rebirth.
mulberries fall round about:
dark corpuscular rain. and I trowel
in the compost, feeding the mouths of corn,
tobacco, high balancing begonias
that dance like pink chandeliers in the draft.
A mama thrush sneaks in the maple
leaves above, kids scuttling
aswirl as I dig. one lone
squash blossom flashes out
in sudden relief, life from death—
shock of yellow on black of earth.
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