A patch of earth in Kelleytown
Black from years of tending
It tested firm in my clutched hand
every Spring
It filled my boots at times , clung
to my tractor and ended up in my
pockets
It crusted ever so lightly , holding
precious water
It helped to fill the stores of Papa ,
Granmaw and my father
A true friend , a loyal companion ,
a southern crescent miracle , soil harrowed
in perfect rows , life bearing piedmont , fragrant loam*..