Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Clay

Wisconsin Mud

Autumn task
Baskets of weeds
Seeds fall to soil
Toil with the tiller

Clay ground first
Curse of my garden
Hardens like rock
Mocks my feeble shovel

Red, this level
Beveled by tilling machine
Green detritus mixes
Fixes a greyer hue

Potting soil on top
Prop myself with a rake
Stakes then reposted
Toasted from our labors

Add soil meant for pot
Plot now proper brown
Garden set for sleep
Steep some tea and rest

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Sunday Scribblings, the prompt was simply “mud.” I’m also putting this on a shelf in the Poetry Pantry at Poets United and spilling on the bar at dverse Open Mic Night!

Of course, the damnable ironweed of earlier in the season (CLICK HERE) refused to disclose the center of its evil web of roots, and the pye wede followed suit. Monica planted some spring bulbs in front; a failed daisy plant finally sprang into life in late autumn, surprise! More daisies will be planted, as well as tiger lilies, the bulbs go in now. Next spring, we hope to have a plethora of pots: Herbs, petunias, Sweet William, lobelia, and Johnny Jump-ups (my favorite).