By Our Hands And Days – a poem by Fred Briggs

By Our Hands And Days

    There is so much to do 
in a garden -  
   unlike back when 
it was done for us. Pruning, clearing 
 all the thorns 
and thistles - getting it ready for 
this year’s new plants. And the birds complain 
when I 
     work near the feeder. I give them 
     names - Daniel, Judith, Ruth. 
Pausing - I need 
to straighten my back - I look to 
the other 
side of the yard - three more chores pop out. 
Work to be done - for another day.
Back to planting.
The sun shines where it wants - 
     the best spots 
    must be 
 divined.
    Plant one here one here 
   one there otherwise we won’t 
be able to 
see them. Dig a hole - 
 painful toil - amend the soil, 
    put 
   in a plant, backfill. Not enough 
dirt - need some more from somewhere else.
I swear the Earth will slowly 
 disappear from gardening.  A 
    butterfly - small angelic - appreciates 
the 
newly planted 
    flower 
 in front of me.
Working the way back.
It’s bad for my spine but the sweat of 
 my brow is good for my soul.

Fred Briggs is a graduate of Stony Brook University where he majored in English Literature with an emphasis on 17th Century poetry. An award-winning poet, his work has been published in several journals and online.

See more of his poetry on Facebook: The Poet’s Cloak – The Poetry of Fred Briggs