POEM - Easy Planting

There are early mornings when
Winter has not released its white knuckled
Grip on patches of ground just yet.

Still, I make a hole and clear out space in you the way
A trowel removes the dark chocolate clay of earth.
As I dig down further it is striped with strands of coarse

Blonde sand that makes a type of coffee blend
That is a luminous tint, it shines almost like ceramic.

The secrets of living are always aromatic:

The scents of new grasses teased out by breezes,
Manicured, manured plots bulging with richness,

While nearby rowdy and fragrant hyacinths urge me on
The whole time. The gritty feel of you under my fingernails,
The damp stains on my knees,

The way my finger feels as it slides
Down the carved wooden trowel:
This is foreplay I tell you.
The days of easy planting sustain us far beyond
The ways that the hard packed snow of our failures betray us.

M C Biegner
5/2006