Digging the earth, remembering a life.

He pushes away the dirt

and slowly puts in his seed.

And waters and waits..

The seed is little, fragile and needs

his tender care.

This years small crop

waiting to come forth.

His hands remind me of his Papa Bears

hands when they tended to the dirt.

Loving the way the dark soil felt between his

fingers and knowing the dark stuff brings

life.

Her shovel pushes into the dirt.

Her skirt giving to the wind.

Her boots dirty from the days work.

She pushes down the earth

and up comes a handful of worms

from beneath. He would tell us

our soil is healthy because of those worms.

She remembers.

He would love to be here now.

The seconds before spring.

Things to do like till the earth,

order his seeds, and survey his land.

Tractor running and his mind running with

the possibilities of this years garden.

The bigger the better was his thoughts

and he did big always.

He is gone and yet he's here

in his grandchildren.

Never letting them forget

he's the reason we live here.

He's the reason we dig in dirt

He will never be forgotten.

So as the seconds before spring

count down I remember my

father-in-law Sherman White.

I sit on his land the land he gave

my family, his family,

knowing that he would love to be

here if he could.