Divine Property LXII: Eternal

by Tim Gavin

I sit here each morning distracted by the flight
Of the geese and the branch scratching my window
And the sun filtering through the blinds
And the hum of the television in the background
Moaning about global warming and stocks. I try
To focus on the good of yesterday –
Preparing the soil once again
For late spring and transplanting black eyed susans,
extending their life from one bed
To another and I am distracted by the pain
In my hamstrings and lower torso
And know it is a good thing, calling me back
To my primal element – my hands in the dirt,
The sweat staining my shirt,
My bare feet feeling the earth
With certain intimacy almost divine,
Almost human.