Here is a special moment of the summer –
rolling back the cover on the compost heap
laid to rest eight months ago.
Back then this heap comprised dead and dying stuff:
uprooted plants, rotting carrots, cut grass.
Since then the worms have been at work.
Now is revealed dark, rich, compost.
The cauliflower leaves have rotted, tea bags have rotted
the old feather pillow has rotted,
and their ultimate rottenness is this:
pure, fresh, life-feeding compost.
Here is transformational proof,
here is a quiet affirmation of ever-lasting life;
who could doubt the evidence of their eyes?
Revealed in this heap is a meal-in-waiting.
Compost, spread around the broad beans and the onions,
taken down into the soil by worms
sucked up by plant roots as nourishment,
transforms with the sun’s warmth into edibility.
Pick and prepare this food,
and eat it in this knowledge of me,
that I am all life,
and that all the universe is within me.