My spring ritual, the forking and turning
Of good brown earth; the marveling
At the myriad creatures therein,
Moist membranes, glistening carapaces;
The green blessing of onion spears,
And the generosity of kale
Filling the hungry gap;
The wonder of the mundane miracle
Of life – building cell by cell,
An alchemy of air, rain, soil and light,
The most prosaic transfiguration.
My hands are work-dry
And I ache
But these raw March nights
Are full of stars.