seeds

last saturday, ed and i planted onion and cabbage seeds. we put them in starter blocks, which are small cubes of soil used to sprout seeds until they becomes small plants, at which point we'll move them in the ground. on saturday, it was very cold and windy outside, but in the greenhouse, where i was, it was warm, almost 80F, and peaceful. i planted 400 onion seeds, which may seem tedious, but i found it very enjoyable, and it was a highlight in my weekend. i enjoyed the fresh air and the solitude, and the repetitive task of dropping one seed in each block felt almost meditative. on sunday i had a couple of hours to myself, and i went to the cafe; thinking back on the previous day, i wrote this:


unnoticed

in the greenhouse,
out of the chilling february wind,
kneeling on warming earth,
planting seeds

tiny onion seeds,
black, dry, hard,
which seem no more than dust.

yet, each one, i know,
contains the Power of Life
within its hardened shell.

realizing this humbles me
makes me dizzy
i almost cannot bare it-
i am holding Life in my hands

it feels so enormous, so important,
and also,
it's so quiet, so ordinary,
it could've easily gone unnoticed.