I’ve got dirt in my fingernails.

There’s a soft, gritty pleasure to the touch of earth,

My few square feet of Eden.

I smooth the soil down like I’m brushing hair with my trowel.

Someday I’ll be eating the things on these colorful paper packets:

Cucumbers and watermelons,

Carrots and sugar snap peas,

Strawberries and zucchini;

Food born of heaven and my backyard.

I let my watering can rain down on the newly settled seeds,

Answering their prayers.

Hands on my hips, squinting up at the sun,

I feel like victory itself in tennis shoes and a wide-brimmed hat.

Because I have dirt in my fingernails

And a cool shower waiting upstairs.