How I love your lovely blond scent,

wheat-ish, oat-ish, dry-ish.

Nothing in the world is there

the likes of you. You cushion 

my strawberries from the soil.

You cushion my beans from the mud.

You cushion my knees when I kneel

to sort through the kales and beets

I will eat. O my love, you are so sweet.

Wet or dry, you do your lovely work

and I love you for your work.