- Books, Literature, and Writing
Dirt In Hands, I Garden: A Poem
Spade stabs the ground
Reaching down, I grasp dirt
Sifting through my hands
I start today’s hard work.
Cut a border ‘round the sides
New life will grow within
Vegetables and maybe some flowers
Sweet fragrance on the wind.
Can hardly wait, this is a first
Past years, things got in the way
No more excuses - plant those seeds
A fresh new garden was born today!