Bad Poetry

Yesterday
I crouched under the sun
Sat back low in the long grass
Got slowly covered in layer after layer of dirt
sifting gently over my skin
like curtains in a lazy breeze

Today I sit in my ergonomic foam chair
Being bathed in fluorescent light
Straining for a glimpse of blue sky through the office across the hall

Yesterday
I weeded a bed of oregano and thyme
“How will I know if I’m pulling the right thing?” I asked
then spent the next hour
rolling leaves between the pads of my fingers
and smelling my fingertips
marveling at my toolbox body
good for so many things

Today I collate report after report
And the only thing the pages smell like under my fingers
Is toner

Yesterday
The biggest hornet I’ve ever seen
flew in drunk circles
like a helicopter going down
Furry spiders
ran for the folds in the fabric
of the ground tarp I was rolling up
A praying mantis
acted like a twig
until the cricket got close enough

And all of us city kids ooh-ed and ahh-ed
Because we knew that Today
All that would be left
is the ache in the deep-backs of my legs
And the grit
way up under my fingernails
that I didn’t scrub hard enough to get out
maybe on purpose.

Got the pic here.