My Dirty Hands
My dirty hands
I hold the rich, crumbly dirt in my hands,
Savoring the warmth of sunlight in it,
Inhaling the aromas of power that
The dark earth holds.
With this power and a tiny seed
I can create wonders.
Where now the earth is idle, I can,
With nature’s help, sow seeds into this ground,
Watch as small green fledglings emerge
And stretch towards the life giving sunlight.
My gardener’s heart jumps with delight,
And with a feeling of gratitude
I watch over those emerald babies.
There is a lot of trust between
gardener and plant.
I trust they will grow, they trust
I will water them, watch over them.
One day soon, some will tower over me.
It is amazing!
In the shade provided by golden sunflowers
and soft yellow blooming okra stalks,
I kneel down to weed.
They soak up the sun, I appreciate
the shade they give.
Happily I work with my dirty hands.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment