This I Believe

Sue - Edmonds, Washington
Entered on April 11, 2007

Furrowing; I believe in Furrowing

Part I. A list

A litter of kittens

A boy, a girl

A clutter of collections

A litany of lists

A bevy of best buys

A man and a wife

A trowel, a spade

And the furrow we made

A length of laments

A series of events

Cleansed and catalogued.

I hope that our epitaph

will be left in the hands of one

who can make something

of it.

Part II. I

dug in,

gloveless,

gathering dirt under my

fingernails, enough

to make a handsome window box:

crud breeds blossoms.

Part III. Legacy

They

lived, worked,

loved, laughed,

suffered some and died

a little each day.

Not as one,

but in the same time

and in so many ways, the same

place.

In the path of

life that the two had grooved

in the earth,

the youth followed, but briefly, and theirs

was easier for the grooving.

A furrow

is not necessarily

a rut.

Part IV. We

Lived, worked,

loved, laughed

suffered some and died

a little each day.

Not as one,

but in the same time

and in the same, very same,

place.

In the path of

our furrow, which we

burrowed

into the earth,

one spade at a time

our young followed, but briefly, and theirs

was easier for our digging.

Part V. He

Was true to the name

Man.

In every way dependable,

kind and good,

and not afraid of a trowel,

or surrendering green black salamanders

to brown girls who presume

to understand what a salamander needs.

Part VI. We

Will have lived

so many

garden variety days

past when our marks,

our furrows, made

a way as our way had been laid,

And our epitaph

will forget what once

seemed so

important:

a furrow

is not necessarily

a rut.