and webbed in
strange darkness he continued
to dig in his garden.
a small square
known to his hands, his
knees.
the feel of soil
the smell of it.
up came carrots again,
tomatoes,
and lettuce, out went weeds.
the rabbit fence
was strung from post
to post.
and with his nose he knew
what was ripe and what needed
more time
to soak up sun and rain
on the fragile vines.
and if he still was unsure,
he took a bite.
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