A Night Feast

To make your thoughts sprout like wild
Plants in spring, tamp a few things
Down with the worms to get black

And rich like good loam. Don’t think
You want to keep all those things,
The blue-sky shells, the fuzzed greens.

Let them rot. Let them gas out
And then sink. When they’re just right,
Spade a few in with your roots.

Don’t try too hard but do try
To keep out whole slews of parts
And bits the mind’s earth won’t eat.

That’s it. Pile it, stir it some,
Comb it, let it sit in sun
And warm the dirt. That’s worth it.