Show me the earth

Show me the earth, I said

he smiled and cupped his hands

like a maltster might

or a coffee merchant

to show me the soil

which richly crumbled

between his fingers.

 

I could tell

by the ingrained dirt

that here was a man

hewn of the earth

a son of toil, and so

twenty sacks, a ton of soil

sifted by his hand

we hefted

into the pickup.

 

the earth moved –

lofted to my city roof garden

the planting done, sitting here

high on that earthy smell,

heaven’s scent

for an earthly paradise

I watch the thyme and tarragon

grow and grow.

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