Sunday, August 10, 2008

End of a season

I dig, dibble, cultivate, till, sow,
Plant, weed, thin, chop, hoe,
Top, rake, cut, lop, reap, mow.
I water with fate, by hand, I harrow,
Garden goodies are a die’s throw.
From agronomy, no trim abs show.
From husbandry, no suntanned glow.
From horticulture, no pounds go.
Time passes, warmth, a possible crow,
On my grateful soul, another furrow.


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