Monday Poem

Compost

wonderstuff of summer declination
that’ll grow my beets and beans and other rations

browner than the mere idea “earth”, archetypical
as sacrifice, more wonderful than virgin birth

more promising than the phantom wealth of nations
more essential than human beings of highest stations

shoveling this wonderstuff into my wagon
sifting it through hardware cloth,

screening stems & stones until it’s light and soft
to turn into my garden till my ass is dragging

to reap its harvest then until my light turns off,
then lift my harvest to the sun which causes
without ever bragging

by Jim Culleny
6/1/13