• Posted by Molly Fisk on August 4th, 2008, 1:20 PM

    Against alphabetical indoctrination, let’s start
    by blessing the zinnias, whose color nourishes
    our famished eyes, whose fortitude in a vase of water
    is legendary. Today they’re only a fuzz of green
    along the path, but we can feel them growing,
    bright flags of summer, and the heavy, sexy
    heirloom tomatoes that we’ll hold in our hands
    and eat like apples, the green beans, the spinach,
    the quiet potatoes sleeping beneath us, gathering
    color and strength.

    Praise to bok choy and French
    breakfast radish, to the earthworms who transform
    this dirt length by length. Praise to fennel and sage,
    to the low-lying strawberries and lofty pears,
    praise to appetite, satiety, and photo-copied notes
    on what to do with arugula.

    We bow to the labor
    that hallows this ground and the memory of all
    who have worked here: mules, chickens, goats, diesel
    engines, draft horses, Italian immigrants, interns
    from Wyoming. Praise to their strength, to sun, rain,
    and manure, to the conquering of doubt and to vision.
    Praise to the eaters. Praise to what offers itself
    to be eaten.

    Molly Fisk is the author of Listening to Winter and a CD of radio commentary, Using Your Turn Signal Promotes World Peace. She’s a commentator for NPR and KVMR-FM, and a National Endowment for the Arts fellow in poetry. She runs Poetry Boot Camp and is a CSA member of Riverhill Farm.

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