There is nothing like the feeling of rich dark soil slip through your fingers when planting a garden. Gloves will only rob you of that sense of life at your fingertips. Think about the erotic sensation of a piece of  cheese cake or decadent truffles; feel the smooth richness on your tongue…

arching their bodies
nature’s sweet arousal
nestling in its moistness
in and out, in and out
worms surrender blissfully

(troiku)

autumn’s last harvest
winter’s table scraps
black gold of gardeners

autumn’s last harvest
feeding sod nutrients
leftover leaves

winter’s table scraps
Mother Nature’s caviar
salivating worms

black gold of gardeners
putrefying stench
parfum de la vie

©Tournesol’17/05/09

A troiku is a new haiku form created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Written for Poetics Tuesday Dverse-Poetics Pub- Soil Poetics

Today at DversePoetsPub, Björn Rudberg (brudberg) in Poetics wants you to write poetry about soil. This is what he says:

“To me soil is both the source of life, and destiny for death. Soil is where we come from and soil you’ll be:

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

I both love and hate the scent of mulch. I love the growth and fear decay. I love to walk barefoot in warm dirt, but afterwards I wash my feet.
Soil gives grain for bread, but when the weather fails we die of hunger.
Soil is friend and foe.

There are many synonyms for soil: mulch and compost, dirt and grime, earth and ground all reflect the soil and various values we attribute to its worth.
Soil can be metaphors for land and country, for home and nations. For war and peace and for the roots of trees.
Taste the soil or bite the dust, bring me poetry from what you sense in soil.
Be gravedigger or gardener, be soil of your origin and dig it deep.