By Rebecca Gilbert IN PRAISE OF DIRT
Beneath our notice, background, base -
primal field, the force that molds us;
this planet's still our refuge place -
gravity still hugs and holds us.
We occupy the middle ground,
between the sky and living earth;
both large and small, the patterns found
reflect their edgy, spiral birth.
Space-wide, great galaxies unfurled;
uncounted stars like grains of sand...
and our enormous little world -
a mere blue speck of fertile land.
Between two particles of soil,
small invisible relations
rise and fall, feast, party and toil -
complex cultures, cities, nations...
Slow dancing in the world's embrace,
entwined with what we hold most dear -
when all is gone without a trace,
the soil will know that we were here
Each bite, each breath, each word we say
is an exchange, a worldly trade;
fresh starlight mixed with common clay -
that's how the human heart is made...
It's light that guides us when we roam,
and dirt's true love that calls us home.