Turning the Compost

It’s all there––the tough ends of the broccoli,

cores and cobs of cabbages and corn

shared now with birds and slugs and worms.

A bright red millipede writhes away.

The resident scorpion, compost-hued,

digs himself deeper in the pile.

Millions of yet smaller beings live

in the dark, citrus-scented mold.

It sparkles with their presence.

What feeds on our winter leavings will enrich

the lettuces and leavings even now in the garden.

Sometimes I think there is no death, only change,

only our lives’ tough ends becoming something new.

(c) Barbara Meyn

* What are you composting in your life right now? What news beginnings will it make way for?

* Write a poem beginning with the words, “It’s all there…” describing your garden or your natural surroundings in winter. What do you notice about this particular time of year?

Please share your writings and reflections here.