Gem Lying in the Soil

By Andrew R. Duckworth

In the backyard, I’m doing work-
Work that isn’t work, but therapy,
The productive sort, the kind
Where I reflect and think about
A great number of things.

I don’t know what I get out of it-
Certainly not tomatoes from the
Withering plants I keep watering-
Other than perhaps time and quiet,
Strings pouring in from the ether.

Memory slaps me, and commentary
From who knows where—perhaps the
Same sort that comes whenever I
Sit down to write. No one just
Reaches through a solid wall.

I look around and wonder what I’ve
Actually accomplished other than
Wasting a valuable forty minutes.
I did not come out here to water,
I came out here to meditate

And perhaps that is exactly what
I needed- to reflect upon the past
For a clearer path into the future
And a better gaze into my present.
This is a gem, you see?

This is a gem lying in the soil
Of my backyard- the sort I labor
For without physical labor, that
I see glistening in the dust and
All it takes is a blow of breath.