Pear Planting
January mud seeps
through my jeans
where I kneel in the orchard.
I scrape and cup
loose soil
pulling damp handfuls
from the planting hole.
My fingers break
into an old gopher hole
-- double layer of chicken wire there
–
I hold
the bareroot whip of wood
like a stick figure
and scoot dirt around roots
firming and filling
each crevice.
An earthy scent of moist soil
rises.
Then, a thick blanket
of composted fall leaves,
old hay
and horse manure.
The roots will wait.
Their spring sleeping
in winter’s warmth.
