I love the feel of damp earth
Just under the layer of the soft, dry crumbles on top
Not so wet to be mud
Cool and fresh
Smelling like new beginnings
Crops that might grow
Worms who might take the dung
Like currency
Convert it to promises

Before I die
Lay me down to rest there
Let me have relief
Under the shade
Of a hundred year old tree
Put my ear to the ground
Hear the secrets being told
The mysteries I have yet to fathom
Before I die

12/13/2003

Author's Note: I had a dream last night that I was brushing away some dry dirt to get to the cool damp earth underneath, and in the dream, it struck me that I've always loved that. I love being able to post it, so that my life as it passes lives somewhere besides a notebook that no one will ever see.

Posted on 12/13/2003
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