From the ground

“Dada! Find wiggly-woo!” the twins cry,
exultant at the chance to dig fingers in earth
and find its inhabitants in their hands.

And so, on my lunch break, I fossick
in our newly dug garden bed,
each patch of earth yielding

a companion for these delighted fingers,
and I store the moment like compost
to ferment within, to wriggle me alive.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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