A Poem by Ed Hart

the expectant earth


another row today

                           my back


against a concert of injury

my shovel

puts strength in my arms

as the black soil peels back

worms and tiny roots

me and the yellow sun

are glad to be

ahead of the game


sitting in the swing

pat and i hold hands

to her the garden

has a chicken-wire fence

and is country casual

       but i see

that salvaged patio lumber

transported last autumn

forming a new border

enough to keep the rabbits out

but the squirrels go where they go

© 2017 Ed Hart

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the squirrels always go where they go, sometimes poets must go too, not hiding really, just busy collecting and saving for Winter when the chill is hard to bare.

A very sweet poem, dearest Ed. It does make me wonder if your back is ok? All that gardening is hard work, indeed. Enjoy holding hands on that swing, my friend. Enjoy every moment.

Posted 1 Year Ago

' .. as the black soil peels back - worms and tiny roots ..
me and the yellow sun - are glad to be .. '

It's how it is, the look and scent, the magic which man might so easily miss if he doesn't make efforts to look. Seeing is never enough.

A touch of palette changes as you and pat share the differences in the sameness of the scene..
together, your world in each other's hands.

Posted 1 Year Ago

i need to touch the earth again
but i hate to do it with gloves
love the picture of boundaries
and what they keep in and out
...a sermon i listen to a few weeks ago
who has who- we think we can buy the land
and then does it own us... with the tending?

Posted 1 Year Ago

my wife and i
made a journey in a rented U-Haul
to the purchase raw cedar logs

they form the skeleton
of the 6-foot high
deer barrier

but the marmots
just laugh

Posted 1 Year Ago

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4 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on April 4, 2017
Last Updated on April 9, 2017


Ed Hart
Ed Hart

Olympia, WA

3/11/17, i am taking this way to notify my friends and readers that several months ago i was given my walking papers from this dimension...i have pancreatic cancer, stage 4,, you can.. more..

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A Poem by Ed Hart

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A Poem by Ed Hart