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Spading the Garden

Now that time has walked our world around the sun and redbirds and robins chart night to day, the moist earth speaks, cries out, lest it be last to thrive, come alive with spring. So - while sun's first rays seize and shake the pines, shouting a child's morning "ai-ki-ki," I take up leather gloves, round-pounted shovel, and stroll down to the hillside garden. Using ash handle as lever I lean full weight on right leg, lift left foot and shove, raise loaded shovel and turn it over, again and again this perpetual motion of love.

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