GET YOUR SHOES ON
These Boots Weren’t Made for Digging
Let’s save this place: a linked cinquain
Old steel toe boots I think I’ll keep
to dig this place I rarely turn.
While digging through the soil’s thin skin
I’m stung. I run. You’d think I’d learn.
Bee’s sure to thrust that stinger deep.
When swelling starts I feel the burn
of venom stinging deep within.
Our Mother Earth forgives. We feel
appreciation once we’ve been
out here a while. For here I yearn.
No till instead we’ll mulch and grin.
Boots walk this path we know for real
won’t poison us. The trail is steep.
Insecticides won’t help us heal.
Sweet earth’s and ours are most akin.
Written in response to Paper Poetry’s June Prompt, ‘Get your shoes on and do our bit for the environment.’
It’s all of our responsibility to protect this, our only, planet. We each can do our part and anyone who would like to write about a part you play, no matter how small and inconsequential it may feel, will find the…
