Become Food!

your hand on the wheel,
Mayan bolt nonwithstanding...
where do we go from here?

my fingernails still dirty,
from digging and planting the seeds.
your eyes cloud over...

the promise of rain?
another chapter finished,
boots laced, and my hat,

your smile, a cup of coffee...
the dog waits at the door.
the mailman passes without slowing down.

the world keeps turning,
from dawn to setting sun.
and seeds become plants...

plants become food!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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