The Dig

Sunlight casted on my ears;

The brown twigs of a tree

Beats on my bay window.

This is unclear for fear

I am searching for a lost tear(s).

The eyelids fluttered;

Lacramel fissure emotes. Mouth muttered.

Something foolish.

I know why branches are wind-

Blown as well as broken …in pieces.

Noise selfish and misses earlobes sent

Kindness.

Partially, lost in consciousness

I munch on brown bacon.

Now, my senses are under arrest:

I wander to the doorway.

Who are the people in the

Garden? Today?

Far too many to count by our

Pond.

Every device outlined. One

Ratchet, one tractor, fertilizer,

Nails and popsicle sticks

Are on the ground.

Part of me seeks to know intent

Outside.

Property awaits me….

After shower, I walked to the

Front stairs.

I rested sitting on the steps.

Except, my interests rose higher into

The heavens. There I am, instep

To watch what is happening.

Brown….I loved….the senses poised. In

Brown fertilized bags poured in

Our garden. What now? Food. No,

Flowers? Why did my family change that?

Brown, all that brown, rakes are

Pulling grassfurrowed aside.

Tractor churns soil over and over

Down each line: Created rows. Hair

Blows in the wind dyed brown

As an appearance of Mother Nature’s earth bed. Sound is

All around me amusing…..