Kneeling

.
there’s pleasure in kneeling,

but kneeling in labor beet babies
or gratefulness

kneeling this way 
I transplant beets

of and in the earth like them,
endurance as tentative, 
roots delicate as capillaries, 
I gently pull
from their nest
two of them
apart

—two sharing the same cell of a potting flat, 
overturning their bound brownness in my palm,
bouncing the tangled clump of root and soil
to separate what had been a nascent bond
into what would stand alone in rain and sun
singing psalms of compost on my knees

in what my mother would call prayer
which comes in varying degrees
the sound of which is always
please
.

Jim
6/11/18

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