Back to the Dirt

By Tom Streeter

Dig deep, it’s cool, gritty clay mixing with dark sandy soil

At first hard to move, heavy, makes me labor, sweat breaks feels like toil

Worms, moles, grubs, beetles, bugs, protozoa, fungus and stones

All together in a nature made realm that can decompose flesh and bones

Turning some over, it begins to somehow respond to my shovel, fork and hand

Nostrils notice and lungs breathe in the sweet scent of this old hillside land

I’m able to finally listen now thinking then knowing I am beginning to hear

A voice of sorts coming from the earth and all around so low, soft and clear

Feeling reminiscent textures and conscious of distinct color combinations, I’m sure

They couldn’t have been experienced, realized or recognized by my mind’s eye before

I commence to understand new and old connections and sincerely want to know

About the seeds and seedlings I hope to eventually plant just how and if they’ll grow

Warmth of the sun, breezes microbes, water, morning dew, air, elements to convert

Transforming dead to dynamic, mysterious life-supporting medium, sweet soil from dirt

We live our lives then ashes to ashes dust to dust it’s back to the dirt we will all someday go

This garden and all that has ever been here today gone tomorrow bugs, worms, rain and snow

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