Soil

Today I sat in the dirt.
I took a handful of soil
Raised it to my nostrils
And breathed the loam
Of life on this planet.
I am from that clay.

I filtered that soil

Through my fingers
Remembering that
My grandfather lost his life
For the loss of his soil.
My father fought across
Europe
To insure I would be
Born
Upon free soil.

Soil.

Dirt.
Clay.

That is what life is about.

We can engineer incredible
Vegetables and fruit
But we cannot create
Soil.

I am alive because of the
Soil
That rained from my fingers.

When I die

I will return to that
Soil.

We’ve got it wrong

My friend.
Terribly wrong.

It is not gold and silver

We should seek.
It is the rich
Luxurious
Stuff of life
The bed of all created things.

We should treasure that

Which we sweep away.
 
Life is in the soil.