Last scoop transferred
from the shovel that holds my labor
of rich critter filled compost
I watch the death eating snackers scurry around
Then glide to the life ridden gardens
like a little girl who has yet been bitten
by fire filled ants
who stealthily roam
and prey on those who leave no regard for them
It is in the garden beds
where I lend and lay my hands
to give mother a rest
I dig with intent
to assist in rebirth
As I make a hole big enough
to fit these lengthy intertwined roots
that will continue to grow,
I notice the she appreciates me
for the gentle,
yet intentful
upkeep of her soil
So in return
she gifts me
with fruitful harvests
of which I can pluck pluck pluck
and bask in the joy
of this little life