Allan Terry Poet Chant Royal

Planting Tulips

callus the analysis
of the hand that was bruised
 cold and bare
the glove to fit
of course refritt
it was worned from a tare 
that requirements fixing
and the remonising
of how the hole came to be
my hands smell bad
and were dirty
of the stains of
the filth from soil
the order spoiled
the hunger I had
a hunger I worked hard
 to achieve
as I washed
the stains of work
would slow but
surely leave
hunger returns
and food I feed
my tired and weary soul
I relax to rest
and I must confess
 The aroma of the soap
takes control
I feel refreshed
and if this
is a test
the soap I used has passed
As I return to chore
I must explore
the scent of
my freshly cleaned hands

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