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.