Earth moved around, crumbs under feet, sod busted, sprigs weeded.
Can’t trample in the outside, kept separate like wheat and chaff.
Only fruits may cross the boundary to crisp sheets, comforted.
What matter worms toiled, enriching bounty-bearing soil for you?
Those souls take nature’s course like hens lay eggs, hemp flourishes.
When men care to nurture as nurtured by mothers they have been,
Then happy homes result from dark gardens’ give and take.