the vegetable garden


your thick dark hair sticks to your forehead with the heat, muscles sore with work but hands labouring ever so gently the hairs on my arms glisten in the sunlight, and I am warm. warm from my fingers to my toes through to each stand of curly blonde hair on my head It’s summer, so everything is blooming; The smells of the flowers and herbs all blending into one. The birds and bees and I alike, in our craving for cold sweet fruit, and anything else fresh we can get a hold of. Comforting is the thought that this moment, so simple, will surely return as the season does. And, we will find ourselves once again in the vegetable garden

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