The Garden Poem by Douglas McClarty

My dad would take a spade and dig
Turn the sods over in dry winter days
They were left in the garden to dry
Warmed by dry spring air we had soil

Raked to and fro until smooth as sand
Then land, laid out with blistered hands
There were beds, drills in neat little rows
Potatoes, cabbage, turnips and a hose?

I stood looking for my dad to give the nod
Hose in hand waiting, I had the watering job
For weeks I watered the vegetable rows
As I stood amazed watching things grow.

Then my daily watering job came to a stop
As we all gathered in the vegetable crop
Our garden now looked so barren and bare
Until in a flash weeds grew, here and there

The winter came. All plants withered away
All that remained was a garden full of clay
Out came the spade, dad digging the sod
I knew I would be back soon to my watering job.