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He was a true earthman
A genuine scion of mother earth
Weather-beaten, brown-skinned
Toiling in the sun,
Garden soil in his fingernails,
Bare-headed, supple-fingered,
Dexterous, rotating wrists
Tending the garden with paternal care,
Sometimes kneeling, occasionally crouching
The lawn, flower-beds and vegetables;
They were his children
The fruits of his hands.
Nine months he was the outdoor man
Untiring, beaming with pride
In his Eden.
Under his beloved weeping willow
He keeled over one afternoon
Still and silent, in a foetal position
On a patch of grass he had walked on
Seemingly for an eternity.
A life lived in unalloyed joy
Man, earth, soil and nature in perfect harmony.
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