She bends to her knees,
The moist dirt quickly staining her skin.
Her weight shifts forward, her hands working the ground.
Delicately and tenderly she pulls her pride to the side.
She grabs at the longs strands of grasses,
growing where they are forbidden.

Her shoulders, bare, begin to feel sweat dampen her skin,
Salty, warm, and tacky to the touch.
She inches her way down the rows,
clearing the path for her plants to flourish.
Dirt pulled from deep lands on her leg, her arm, her hair.
Darkened earth fills the unkempt nails on her fingers.

The richness of the earth is nearly intoxicating.
Its grit smoothes away the rough edges.
Her anxieties lessen.
The burdens of life leave her shoulders.
Resting on her heels, she sees victory.
Her accomplishment simple, but it is hers to claim.
Hers alone.