Kneeling

.
there’s pleasure in kneeling,

but kneeling in labor beet babies
or gratefulness

kneeling this way 
I transplant beets

in and of the earth like them,
endurance as tentative, 
roots delicate as capillaries, 
I gently pull

the nest
of source 
of two 
apart

—two sharing the same cell of a potting flat, 
overturning their bound browness 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 sun and rain

i

scenting 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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