Dough and Crumble

November 2010      -        March 2011

words from my notebook 6/3/11


I see the field in the distance. It looks different. Roger worked it on Friday, how do  I know? I spoke to him then. It's been churned tilled, laid out to dry. The soil needs air; 'dough is no good, it needs to be like crumble.'

. . .

It's freshly dug now. When I last saw it orange and hard, it held my weight like dense ice. Now it's broken, slushy, nothing firm about this terra. But it's the cycle, destruct to construct; you can't make an omelette without...nor brownies for that matter. The earth lies here at present like a tray of brownie off-cuts, crumbled clumps, fresh, delicious.

I still can't imagine growth here yet. It's a mess, turbulent waves of earth. But there will be a calm to this storm, and from its still surface there will be life.