The one who feeds the plants


From where I sit on this dark soil surrounded by seeds
and sprouts, I feed the plants.
Hands dirty and tired from weeding and tying
twine around poles for beans to grab and twist up towards
the sky, I sit and I wait. I watch. Burning sun scorching tender leaves
begging for shade where they cannot grow, they cry
to me and I water, unsure why the earth is so cruel. Spinning around
an unforgiving sun that lights a sky of gas and dust all made by
thirsty, burning plants, pulling life out of the earth to grow upwards
away. Take me with you.

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