Compost

 

{I wrote this poem after visiting the compost pile and adding several handfuls of shredded documents, to top off the orange rinds, coffee grounds and bits of brown lettuce.  Life is teeming, in the moist soil-in-the-making beneath. 

Like many of you, I have been trying to clean house during these long, dull days of Coronavirus quarantine, and a shredder has come in handy. 

Sorting through piles of paper, I find myself wondering, why in the world did I hold onto this for so long?  No doubt, at the time, I persuaded myself that it was necessary.  Vital.  Of immense importance.  Now, I part with it gladly, realizing the freedom that such divestment sometimes brings. 

In this climate, we must part with so much that we love, against our will.  I hope this poem helps comfort those who must endure that pain.  Thank you for coming by to read!}

 

 

Feed

The worms

With the shreddings of my laughter.

 

Little critter

Beetles

Shift and scamper in the mound.

 

Feed

The worms

And their castings feed the garden.

 

Watch tomatoes

Ripen,

Suckled, nurtured on my frown.

 

Paper

Dust

Swirls and curls in whirlwind eddies.

 

Docs,

Forgotten, rotten,

Once were stacking, rafters high.

 

Callused

Hands

Shake the slightest scraps of paper

 

And litter bittersweet

Reunions:

Joining trees, to touch the sky.

 

Copyright 2020 Andrea LeDew

 

If you enjoyed this poem, you may like this bittersweet bit of flash fiction:  Silent Tyrants.