Garden Spot



For The Sunday Wednesday Muse Prompt, Garden Spot. Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash. A nod to the still vivid memories I have of being dragged off to our family farm by my parents in those dire, dark SAP days.

First comes the rain,
and then the wakened worms which turn the
hard, sun-baked soil into compliant mulch.
Grain by grain, leaf by leaf
the beauty of Symbiosis begins
to rear its head, the cycle of death
begetting life and sustenance for the things
we must ingest, for which with backs bent
beneath the blazing sun we labour;
the reward of another day survived eked out
from the hard, earth.

4 thoughts on “Garden Spot

  1. This poem took me back to my gardening days, on my knees for hours and hours, weeding, to bring forth food to feed my hungry kids. Occasionally I asked them to help, and they did, with much grumbling. But, mostly, I was the Weeder in Chief. Smiles. Loved your poem.


  2. hmm. yes. I remember the day my mom brought mulch home – bales of straw we put around the plants in our garden over one acre… Love this poem.


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