Annie's Garden - A Pantoum

Annie's toes itch for sun-warmed earth.
She is from rock-rimmed canyons, from sage crushed under horse hooves, from warm sandstone on bare feet.
It's impossible to put roots into the earth in a dorm, in a loveless marriage, in a small cramped apartment with an alley view.
In her thirtieth year, she is home.

She is from rock-rimmed canyons, from sage crushed under horse hooves, from warm sandstone on bare feet.
Her garden overlooks long mesas that crack against robin-egg skies.
In her thirtieth year, she is home.
Garden gloves are too sterile; she needs to crunch and crumble between thumb and fingers.

Her garden overlooks long mesas that crack against robin-egg skies.
North light clings to the studio walls, yet Annie spades.
Garden gloves are too sterile; she needs to crunch and crumble between thumb and fingers.
Vegetable seed packets lean against potted, expectant tomatoes, rosemary, basil and thyme.

North light clings to the studio walls, yet Annie spades.
Sworls and hard mesa lines in paint can wait.
Vegetable seed packets lean against potted, expectant tomatoes, rosemary, basil and thyme.
The sun warms her back as she pokes seeds in tilled dirt swirls.

Sworls and hard mesa lines in paint can wait.
It is planting time.
The sun warms her back as she pokes seeds in tilled dirt swirls.
She flexes her muscles and stretches out to the mesas and promises her heart she'll paint soon.

It is planting time.
Too many nights she wondered if she was worth anything at all.
She flexes her muscles and stretches out to the mesas and promises her heart she'll paint soon.
The air and the dirt and the bird noise fill her blood and bones.

Too many nights she wondered if she was worth anything at all.
Now she says, "Tell me how much you love me, honey" and smiles because the answer gets better every time.
The air and the dirt and the bird noise fill her blood and bones.
She returns the favor and fills her garden with roots.

Now she says, "Tell me how much you love me, honey" and smiles because the answer gets better every time.
He wraps her in his arms and whispers in her hair.
She returns the favor and fills her garden with roots.
Annie's toes itch for sun-warmed earth.