Enough to give away like poetry,
the garden keeps us near
humble dirt anticipating

the quick fix of accomplishment
flourishing overnight, a short walk
from the kitchen table—a crop

to share with good neighbors—and
the ground squirrels and cottontails,
the bugs, birds and worms

that arrive before the harvest.
It’s never been about the money
saved instead of labor,

nor about feeding nature—but
more about living with
the gift of earth and flesh.


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