Zestful Gardens inspires poetry!
September 8, 2009
Farm Hands
Danielle Harrington
Farm hands
they spend their days
nudging the soil
digits wrapped firmly around tool handles
grasping sharp blades to harvest food
coaxing lettuce and fluffing spinach
in cold water
at the end of the day
hands, stiff and sore
like a check list
convey what they have done
the dirt caked fingernails
so densely packed
it takes days to set it free
the growing desert canyon cracks
eroding along the side of
the most active fingers- thumb and pointer
the callouses in the crook of the thumb
the corn-starched black stained finger tips
oblivious to gentle touch or temperature variations
like old deaf men who demand yelling from their companions
to remember that sound exists
I wonder if you
take a surprised inhalation
when i gently gather the petticoats
of your butterleaf lettuce at the market
ushering it, somewhat gracefully into t-shirt bags
because there is the green leafed beauty i handle
or the squeaky clean baby cabbage you find so adorable
or the bunch of golden beets you find so vibrant
held in my hands
my hands
weathered, stained, and marked by the work they do
to bring the food
to you