turned soil belowbehind
a wave of redbrowns and greyblacks
when I look directbehind and see
a straight line and perfect curl
an exhilaration like no other
when I look overout at what I’ve done
fold after fold of deep tissued groundmuscle
my stomach begins to curl
with this groundswell I force
the earthpores heave and vomit
a froth of carbon and dust
stay focused it’s getting done it’s got to be done
maybe never again if we nuture it right
if we feed the soil
I find calm in the trill of a killdeer and
the mute flutter of three mourning doves
cutting over the gurgling beast I drive
remember how I got here
an ancient unsettling task
helps me know those millions long gone and far off