Afternoon Poem, January 19, 2022

Pappaw kept a lettuce bed behind our house

There was a little rectangle of soil between the back wall and the alley

Shaded almost every way

He dug and hoed until the dirt was fine as sand

And rimmed the spot with boards stood on edge

Tacked to corner stakes

He waited till the sign was in the loins

Sprinkled the seeds across and along

And laid fine, white cloth overtop

So protected and nurtured

Here would be born something delicate and delightful

Long, moist leaves of faintest green

Fit for a king’s table

This hidden place was mine as well

And the garden a holy mystery

I dug then with a spoon in bare spots on the lawn

But knew better than to touch what pappaw had made

copyright 2022

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