Honourable Dirt Poem by M.J. Lemon
Honourable Dirt
the shovel gets
stuck in the ground
and creates the trench
the seeds are dropped
so the table isn't left empty when
the frosts--the uncles and aunts
not seen in ages
as well as the ice crystals---
pay unwanted or unexpected visits.
The overalls remain unwashed;
they wait for the next thaw.
It doesn't swirl the letters that
stick in profanities launched
surreptitiously
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 7:18:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Those long lost aunts and uncles can sometimes be cold as ice...and then their frost melts...and they become civilized...only after they've spilled all the dirt.
So true, so true my friend. Thanks so much for reading.