The compost is a time machine.
Each turn of the pitchfork
unearthing bits of the past,
ghosts once lifted by other forks.
Banana peels from baby's first feeds,
broccoli stems, pistachio shells, avocado pits-
Each heave brings me back in time.
Now I am standing at the counter cracking eggs
Next, sitting around the table carefully segmenting grapefruit.
And it's not just mealtime blessings that are bubbling to the surface.
Here are bits of crumbling playdough, shredded papers and mail.
The grapevine mobile the kids and I made while waiting for baby.
And while I work I realize just how rich this compost really is.
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