228–Poet or Farmer?

i want to know why it is that
in this vast expanse of creation
i am here writing it seems like
such a useless occupation like
making speeches instead of sowing seeds

guess i'm not as much of a farmer
as i'd like to be though i love the thrill of 
tending an ailing blueberry bush
giving it the right acidy push
seeing the strawberries turn beauty
red the sweet plums plumming
for the first time mixed with an
orgasm of basil and rosemary

tomatoes mixed with flowers and prayers
mulched against the coming long hot
summer i have worked myself to the 
wet bone repairing the sprinkling system
piling on the mulch pleading with each stem
and bloom to feel loved and linger here with us

five years out this will be a food forest
but for now i love the first artichoke streaking
up to heaven on a slender shaft i adore
the bright red orange blooms on the
pomegranate that is not quite mature enough
to turn the blossoms into fruit yet
hibiscus and peach avocado and orange

i kiss this gorgeous ground that holds the
micro and macro life of eucalyptus trees
and tiny organisms i can't see but still
i love to know may you be as blessed as we
are to have you here, from the hawk family
high up in the tree to the squirrel that
steals the birdseed to one and a half-year old
Sammy who loves to spray water and sing in his swing
we are such a oneness of community a living
choir of praise and need and fullness
living here in Woodland Hills, California under the red hot sun
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