Nov. 5 Poem A Day Challenge

Today's prompt:  write a growth poem.

******

Hands dig in the dirt,
small, thin hands next to
small, wrinkled hands,
digging and digging
small holes in the yard.

The dark soil gets under
fingernails and sticks to
skin, the evidence of labor
shared by young and old.

Packages with pictures of flowers
of all colors and sizes are laid out.
Reds and pinks and whites and yellows;
the little brown bulbs showing no sign now
of what they will become in just a few months.
Package after package ripped open,
bulbs and seeds fall into waiting hands,
gently placed in the small holes.

The dirt is moved softly back into place,
the green watering can pours
life-giving liquid onto the places
where underneath lies the thing,
the spark, the future life.
Time will pass, flowers will grow,
physical proof of the time spent
by these dirt-covered hands,
young and old.