Show me the earth

Show me the earth, I said

he smiled and cupped his hands

like a maltster might

or a coffee merchant

to show me the soil

which richly crumbled

between his fingers.


I could tell

by the ingrained dirt

that here was a man

hewn of the earth

a son of toil, and so

twenty sacks, a ton of soil

sifted by his hand

we hefted

into the pickup.


the earth moved –

lofted to my city roof garden

the planting done, sitting here

high on that earthy smell,

heaven’s scent

for an earthly paradise

I watch the thyme and tarragon

grow and grow.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Please feel free to comment in any language, but note that comments will be published in English. We offer no warranty as to the accuracy of the Greyhares translation!

I accept the Privacy Policy


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.