Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Empires of Miniscule Power
Feel the warming earth between forefingers and thumb
Even on old, weathered digits the grit will abrade the skin
Its smell is wholesome and eternal; so full scented with life
The smallest particles of life exist within a micro cosmos of dirt
Its empires of miniscule power rise and fall within a spoonful
My each loving touch wanders through abundant, hale billions
And into such a fecund environment I place my treasured seed
And it shall thrive in its innate fertility amongst this medium
Come autumn it will have grown full ripe and I will be content
Like a loving parent all shall be gathered in close and treasured