DIRT

DIRT
Never happier than with dirty hands
As spring approaches preparing the lands.
Pulling weeds making way for the flowers
No vegetables now just pretty bowers.

Food in the past, but all happiness now
Small is beautiful, enough not to plough.
It’s all about colour, form and good scent
Seems that for us this space was Heaven sent.

Our patch of tiny heaven is prepared
As autumn plans were planted and well aired
We look forward to the coming of spring
As the garden will bloom for the first ring.

The chime of the bell to herald its birth
A new picture of colour and warmed earth
There is no clash, but a blend of sweet tones
With schemes changing as they circle the stones.

This sweet dirt that stains, supports and feeds all
The mice who live by the stones of the wall
The birds who come to feed, thank with a call
The cat from next door sleeps, no cares at all.

This could be Nirvana, but that’s beyond
Exists elsewhere than this side of the pond.
For now it’ll do as our Heaven on Earth,
Thank the Lord for our patch of Devon dirt.

© David Tenneson – 2017