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The Potting Shed
by Kristina WoodhillTime to clean the potting shed
And put my tools to sleep,
I've pots and soil
And odds and ends
Of gardening I keep.
I tried my hands at
Vines this year,
Some trellises got paint,
The trumpet vine was buried
In the sunflowers, blooms were faint.
And I love to feel the ever-changing ground
Beneath my feet
I potted up some iris
That my friend passed on to me;
The leaves are green and white
With stripes, they'll bloom so fragrantly.
A tree went in, some tulips, too,
They'll burst when next spring comes;
But the most exciting challenge, sure,
Was propagating Tom.
And I love to feel the changing, shifting ground
Beneath my feet
Now Tom suggested starting
With a simple fall division,
To get the best spring growth for
Both his old and newer ism.
I cut along the dotted line
As he laid out for me,
His knives were keen to do the job,
His hands kept mine steady.
And I love to feel the sifting, rippling ground
Beneath my feet
Hurrah! Hurrah! Said he and he,
I hopped them to their holes;
There was some awkward bumbling
As we tripped on bloodied toes.
A bit of blood and bone meal, love,
Says, Tom, will do the trick.
Now fill these in and tamp us down
And mark us with a stick!
How I love to feel the throbbing beating ground
beneath my feet
With Tom and Tom-Tom in the earth,
My garden tools are still;
The leaves are drifting swiftly
From this morning's frosty chill.
I know that soon enough the sun
Will warm my frozen earth;
Tom and Tom two will spring to life
I'll put them BOTH to work!!
Oh my, I dearly love to feel
The sometimes sleepy, slightly creepy
Wormy world of humus heaving ground
beneath my feet!
10/22/2006
Author's Note: Kristina de Ghoul at your gardening service!
Posted on 10/22/2006
Copyright © 2026 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 10/22/06 at 11:17 PM zoundz! An underground Halloween poem-ism
I feel the cold nipping & the words gripping!
:) |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 10/22/06 at 11:22 PM PS: Tom-tom is he-heh edging closer to the
h
edge! |
Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 10/22/06 at 11:25 PM |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 10/24/06 at 06:02 PM This is the funniest garden poem I have ever read. Even amidst the humour, the churning underground carries the depth that is the essence of the rich dark-side that this Ghoul-ish feast both celebrates and engenders. |
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