I planted some beets and some Russian kale
In the season of the plague, I thought
It’s simply good to see things grow
So I placed them oh so carefully
Three inches apart and a quarter inch deep
In a plot I could see by lamplight before I slept
And I dreamed of my garden, and I wept.
I watered and checked them each morning
And weeded and flicked dirt from each new leaf
I prepared a windbreak against a late frost
I mulched with the best mulch, who cared for the cost
I propped up one plant that had tilted
I triaged two of three leaves that had wilted
I adjusted my cap and tightened my gloves
I worked as I’d never done before
The local bugs never knew what was in store
And I tended each and every plant
Determined that all must grow,
So I fell to my knees and weeded some more
And scanned the sky for snow
And I’m I’m proud and want you to know
That I’ve become not only the gardener
Of my kale and my beets
But the EMT of all these rows.
Ted Littleford