Digging
My fork penetrates the earth
in search of that creeper.
Two robins watch from the fence
waiting for worms.
Skeins of gulls fly over,
silver-bright in the evening sun,
heading back to the lake.
The creeper surrenders at last,
piece by piece.
The robins get their worms,
peck by quick, sure peck,
when I stand away.
The gulls reach their roost
and settle for the night.
Its hard work, digging,
but full of little rewards.
davicletay 1/2004
My fork penetrates the earth
in search of that creeper.
Two robins watch from the fence
waiting for worms.
Skeins of gulls fly over,
silver-bright in the evening sun,
heading back to the lake.
The creeper surrenders at last,
piece by piece.
The robins get their worms,
peck by quick, sure peck,
when I stand away.
The gulls reach their roost
and settle for the night.
Its hard work, digging,
but full of little rewards.
davicletay 1/2004
