Thursday, November 8, 2012


-for Jack, my Papaw

A million seeds arrived from Florida today.
Last week, peat moss was trucked in from
Canada and was stacked at both ends of
the prepped greenhouses.Weeds chopped,
poison set out for mice, little seed thieves.
No more smoking, tobacco causes disease
for the young seedlings that’ll pop up once
the heaters make it nice and toasty inside.
He shows me the stipple board and vacuum
that will drop the tiny seeds into plastic trays.

Orange Kubota tractors with water and hoses
are ready to go, but we won’t be planting yet.
In his kitchen he drinks coffee at the counter
and points to a tall, fancy clock in the corner.
The stoic face of Moon Man rises on the dial.
If you want them plants to grow right, then
you have to wait for the sign to be in the head.
After so many generations, he still followed the
Cherokee way of waiting for a full moon to plant.

1 comment:

IP lawyer said...

I like your style of writing, it is very poetic and really transports you to the place you're writing from.