We stir it, and it gets air, and it settles and composts down. We plant it, and we harvest it, and we eat what we need. We share.
We turn it under and mix it; we cover it over, and we let it settle. Blanketed, heavy, decomposing into the smallest parts–until it’s time to stir again.
Sometimes we add new material. We stir it, it settles, and it composts down. Every once in a while, when it’s become too compact and nothing can breathe, it needs air. We aerate, with force and forks, or with tilling and destruction.
There has to be room to breathe.
We plant, we wait, and we harvest. We eat what we need. We share. There is rest and celebration. Through this labor there is fruit.
