Poetry

Hands in the Soil

Carol Prejean Zippert

My daddy grew up with his hands
in the soil
The country-born son of sharecroppers
he moved to town but he had to have
his hands in the soil
He just needed to be amongst
up-turned earth
He tilled the land for year-round
gardens
Planting vegetables, flowers and herbs
(The loud peppermint tea was my favorite)
His cabbage, squash, tomatoes
and cayenne pepper bushes rivaled
the roses and azaleas for color
and show
He tended vines along the fences
and myriad of flowering greenery
lined the yard and hugged the house
My daddy grew up with his hands
in the soil
And sometimes he turned up the earth
And planted nothing at all.