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