I see you, fingers dug in soil,
kneeling down, close to the earth.
Starlings startle you in the trees,
You look up quickly, hair strands flying around your face,
sunlight striking over your cheeks,
striding down the seedling line
where peas shouldering through sample it.
You crouch again and feel the dampness on your knees.
You stand silent in the kitchen
pulling off your earthy boots,
one leg braced against a chair.
The evening sun is slanting through the open door
polishing pots on the sills,
tiny dust specks glinting, shining in your hair.