Day 196

Morning’s Glory

 

Early Dawn I take to the garden with plow and spade

Tilling the muddy field in the misty morning

 

With rigorous movements I push the plow

As  my feet sing in the ground I stand

 

Sweat forms beads upon my high brow

and blisters form on my bare hands pushing

 

Sinking deeper within the mud I feel coldness

The wet clay forming mud oozes between my toes

 

Continuing to pull and push I struggle against the grown weeds

Abandoning the plow, I am soon to take up the hoe and spade

 

Putting my back to work, I raise the hoe high and let it fall

Breaking up the clumps of dirt and clods of mud

 

Standing in the field, I take a little reprise

Standing watch over the acre I have just tilled

 

Looking over the other half acre still to go

I wiggle my toes in the encompassing cold mud

 

Tickling sensations run up my legs into my spine

I glance down and imagine my toes turning into worms

 

Regaining my breath, I head back to my fun filled task

Taking up the plow once more, I start the rhythmic push-pull dance

 

Musing that the work of the gardener is a game of give and take

Taking from me my energy, but in the end giving me a freshly tilled field

 

Finishing up with the work, the morning sun is gently rising as the fog dissipated

I go to the water bin to wash my muddy feet in the icy waters collected from the night

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