Planting Poem by Bryan Thao Worra

The farmers, the gardeners of the world
Bend to the earth on every continent

Seeds in hand, holes in the soil like
A hungry mouth dark with mystery.

Touch her with a word from the page, she smiles.
Touch her with a hand at night

A million things might happen

Like a young shoot climbing from the ground
Who might become

A field, a shade forest, a bit of soup

On a complicated evening
When she needs it most.