Growing Together
We gather with chatter and pockets of seeds,
With trowels and laughter and half-formed needs,
With minds full of clutter and days that are long,
Then someone starts digging, and we fall into song.
The soil gets turned and the air starts to shift,
A joke passes round and the whole group will lift,
We talk of the weather, then drift into more,
Little by little, we open the door.
We plant out the beans in a neat, hopeful row,
And someone admits they’ve been feeling quite low,
No big declarations, no need to pretend,
Just hands in the dirt and a nod from a friend.
The rhythm is simple: we weed and we sow,
We water, we wander, we watch how things grow,
The courgettes sprawl wildly, the sunflowers lean,
And somehow our thoughts feel a little more clean.
There’s comfort in passing a spade or some twine,
In sharing a moment, a story, a line,
In knowing you’re part of a slow, steady crew
Who show up each week and make space just for you.
We don’t fix each other, don’t try to be wise,
But light finds a way in the cracks we disguise.
With dirt on our fingers and sun on our backs,
We’re quietly mending what life sometimes lacks.
So here in this patch where the good things begin,
With mud on our boots and a calm settling in,
We grow more than veg in these well-tended rows,
We grow something deeper than anyone knows.
Copyright © Janet Bosson | Year Posted 2026
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