It's one giant sandbox where seeds go to die.
Every year it's the same.
A vegetable salad in ten feet of dirt.
A mud hole just waiting for rain.
Mom always wants it. Dad always starts it.
Us kids just watch it die.
When I do the weeding there's nothing worth eating,
But every year we try.
Thal Dixon
Previously Published in
Apropos Volume VI #2
November 1994
Apropos
