greens
plant and weed beside the kitchen and
the forerunner of a fern bed behind lilacs
on the swampy side ignore omens asking
the real question
if you’ll ever cry Where are we going?
“it’s a big mistake” Going where?
my earth sinks / would always sink if
it weren’t for stones floating to the surface
each winter
land bridge jeopardy
cruel ground
stone soup rather than potato I intended
to tame with compost, yes and worming
so it was holes in dirt with next year’s
garden already planned out she’s ready
to hear I’ve never been fond of mowing
a lawn but take to composting anyway
digging in
royally singing in praise of red wigglers
like a man
so truly the Cadillac
on my daily
commute
extending the scale new construction
along all his options have me wondering
how the routes would be by the time
I retire
what will be planted where forest was
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
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Jnana's Red Barn 