Reflections On The Way To The Compost Bin — An Urban Meditation
O Ground beneath our feet,
what realms of life await us?
All bodies like to eat
but the compost bin disgusts us.
From your dark and meagre crust
come the tastiest traded fares.
Yet those who return to dust
would rather put on aires.
We are better than dirt
and our children would be lucky
to wear a white shirt
than get their hands all mucky.
Such highbrow notions
train us not to see
how the farmers’ motions
are worth more than their fee.
Without the faintest care
we devour lavish plates,
leaving your ground bare,
and sealing our common fates.
But here among those
who moil for rusty gold
are some who dare propose
to give thanks before we are old.
Thank you God
for the carrot on my plate
and the sod
from whence it came to date.
Grant Dear Sue good rest.
May her tribe increase.
May her soil be best –
with unseen creepy crawlies never cease.
O Ground beneath our feet
let us not forget,
our dusty destinies entwined shall meet
for God for sure redeems this set.
Early to the bin a bowl of scraps I take
soon upon your face to spread.
Yes, indeed, all will shake,
but together, may we break more bread.
–Watch Living Soil, produced by the Soil Health Institute.