We’re not planting yet,
just digging. The long roots
of couch grass playing out
through the cool soil,
and the deep fingers
the dandelions send down
down down and the stones,
as if they were a crop themselves,
to be thrown in the barrow –
bell clang dull thud –
and the words strung
between us, planted like seeds,
the conversation growing
and drifting like those
parasol seeds from the
dandelion’s white clock.
Lillian is hosting at dVerse tonight, and we are thinking about this verse from Ecclesiastes:
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 American Standard Version (ASV).Lillian is hosting at dVerse tonight, and we are thinking about this verse from Ecclesiastes:
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 American Standard Version (ASV).
Sarah writes poems 
These lines:
“and the words strung
between us, planted like seeds,
the conversation growing
and drifting like those
parasol seeds from the
dandelion’s white clock.”
absolutely beautiful. Yes, yes….sowing words, conversation growing….
I love this response to the prompt.
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Thanks, Lillian. It’s a lovely prompt. I don’t know the bible, either, but I recognise those lines, and they are a poem in themselves.
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A time to sow/sew indeed; a tiny poem with a stentorian voice. You had me at the point the dug up stones clanged the wheelbarrow like a bell; an image that catapults us to a incredible sense of place.
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Thanks, Glen. Much appreciated from you, who usually manages to make me feel nostalgic for a youth I didn’t even live…
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A lovely, thoughtful take on the prompt! Such evocative phrases: “the deep fingers
the dandelions send down
down down and the stones,
as if they were a crop themselves,”
and the words sown, too.
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Thanks, Merril.
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I would love to hear this preformed.
I did think it could almost have a line break in that second line, but that might just be how my brain reads it.
You’ve painted such a vivid picture of a domestic scene and made it beautifully real for the reader. I could feel those stones in my hands as I tossed them into the barrow, hear the noise they made. Spectacular writing.
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I wondered about a line break there, but it looked a bit wobbly on the page. I think there’s also a bit of me that thinks it’s more poetic to have a full stop in the middle of the line!!!
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In the end it’s what works for you. We can spend hours playing around with poems and still not quite have them how we want.
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A lovely portrayal of companions in the garden!
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i like the digging in and the preparation aspects of your poem. there is something so healthy about connecting with nature in such a hands-on way
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I love the digging and the growing conversation like parasol seeds from the
dandelion’s white clock. I can’t wait to see those dandelions flying about.
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Oh, Sarah, I love this poem! It’s like you have grown up through the soil and appeared in my garden or landed on a dandelion seed! I especially love:
‘and the words strung
between us, planted like seeds,
the conversation growing
and drifting like those
parasol seeds from the
dandelion’s white clock’
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Earthy poems always appeal to me, and this is a good one. You make a wonderful statement about the relationship between us and the soil and how it’s the same as the one that binds us to one another, growing in depth and strength.
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Nice last two lines with parasol and white clock.
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I really like the feeling of going down into the earth and finding stones along the way. Then the planting seeds of a conversation that could bloom later.
“the words strung
between us, planted like seeds,
the conversation growing”
Wonderful read.
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Beautifully imagistic and earthy. A wonderfully-captured, human moment!
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