Sometimes I stop myself when I am digging in the dirt.
With my hands in; I feel; I see.
I feel my present state in things.
I see my past encounters with the dirt.
When I dig in the dirt, I move things.
Things move back.
I see the residual in my fingernails.
I take this dirt to give the ground life.
Plants of all kinds I give to the dirt.
I give love in each thing I put into the ground.
To remind me that like myself, it needs love.
Like my mind, the dirt must be moved
for seeds to be accepted.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
I stop myself when I am digging in the dirt.