Coming Home: An Ode to Earth Day
An earthling day touching dirt and scribbling a poem
This morning, I went to retrieve some compost from the community garden. Approaching the two piles of fragrant soil with my 30-gallon paper lawn bags and shovel, I settled into a spot just left of an older gentleman who looked like he was just about wrapped up.
Hunched over, his stature was mostly hidden by the enormity of his black Silvarado pick-up truck. As I shoveled some dirt, he hoisted a couple more buckets into his trunk.
We chatted for a bit.
His name was Lee. He had a thick Italian accent and the sweetest demeanor. He grew up in the area, went to high school around the corner, worked in the local public school system for 40 years, and his grandkids attended the Montessori school we share a fence with.
I see him practically every evening walking with whom I assumed was his wife, but we had never really crossed paths. They were very recognizable. They walked very quickly, and always looked like they had the tightest grip on each other. They always J-walked from our neighbor’s driveway to the same corner of the adjacent street. It’s as if their 4 feet were well-rehearsed and racing each other to the end.
His wife’s name was Andrea. And, after 10 years of him nagging her, she was finally retiring later this month from working at a local deli. He cracked a joke about how he would “soon be in a lot of trouble.”
She also did not care much for the “smelly dirt” he was bringing home, so he teased that he should get the truck-load home before she got back from work.
“Did I need help with loading mine into my car?”, he asked. I said I was fine, but appreciated the offer. I promised him I would wave the next time he walked by our house.
He hopped into the car, rolled his window down, and slowly drove away.
After loading up around 70 pounds of soil, I wrapped up as well. But, before heading home, I went up the hill to Blake Garden, a 10-acre rolling terrain of flowers, trees, shrubs, and beautiful landscaping - all now managed and owned by UC Berkeley’s College of Environmental Design.
I spent an hour walking the grounds and scribbling the verses to the poem below.
Coming Home: An Ode to Earth Day
Earth,
You are not an escape.
You are home.
You are
Webs of glimmer,
The tightrope of spiders.
Frogs and rabbits,
gossiping in the forest.
Earth,
You are not recess.
You are home.
You are
Leaves brushing together - like chimes,
A tune on the radio.
Birds narrating plot twists,
A scintillating audiobook.
Earth,
You are soft and you are hard, and -
You are home.
You are
The curvature of your rocks,
The prickles of your branches,
Wine-colored petals, and
The ripples of your streams.
Earth,
You are restful yet restless.
You are home.
You are
Creative,
The original chemist,
Acrobat,
Comedian,
Architect,
Extrovert,
Performer,
Host…
Earth,
You are what you have always been,
Waiting - patiently.
And, coming home to you
Has never felt so right.
With that, I wish you an Earth Day well-spent.
Happy community gathering, and see you on the next page!