You listen to the thump
the dirt makes as you
spade it onto more dirt while
you till the garden by hand because
the Roto-tiller is broken and
you push the spade in the ground
with your foot, turn a clod of dirt
and lay it diagonally in front of you,
working your way across the garden
in rows, left to right, then right to left,
so you don’t step in the dirt
that’s already been spaded, and you realize
you still have to hoe and rake
the soil before you can even plant
any seeds, and then you’ll have to water
the seeds each day and care for the plants
as each breaks through the soil, stretching
toward the sun, and you’ll worry that
there will be too much rain or too little,
and you’ll fret over the eggplant
in the southern corner of the garden
that keeps losing its leaves, and your heart
will overflow as the crops begin to come in,
and you’ll rush to the house to show anyone
who is there the first of the tomatoes that seemed
to have suddenly ripened in the noonday sun,
and you will begin to wonder if this is why
Cain did not give God the first of his fruits
when he made an offering, why he brought
the poorer quality fruits, why he wanted to keep
those first fruits for himself.
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This is remarkable…I could feel my hands in the dirt, taste the anxiousness of tending and waiting, and experience the joy of growth and harvest and then the move at the end to redeem Cain in understanding why he wouldn’t give the first fruits is stunning! This poem literally made my heart skip a beat!
Thank you for your kind words about my poem! They are much appreciated.
Such a beautiful piece! Making the connection between the modern experience of gardening (i.e. Rototiller) and Cain’s ancient story is poignant, and sheds light on both. I won’t think of my own first fruits the same again!
Thank you Elan! Yes, first fruits are so special.
Whether a gardener or not, we have all planted and hopefully, harvested, in our lives. This beautiful poem captures the emotions of both in deeply personal and deeply universal ways. For that alone, I am grateful to the author, but even more, she evokes compassion for Cain, and that is beyond touching. It is so deeply needed in what so many experience as as compassion-starved world.
Thank you so much Brad, and I do hope my poetry brings compassion. It is one of the many reasons I write.