FECUNDITY 2
How many like me are cautiously and silently alone,
Cruising the garden to choose, sometimes wisely,
Often without thought of consequences,
A place to plant a seed in the earth.
The warm, dark, waiting, ready earth.
The act of clearing away the dressing of winter compost
And touching with fingers the top soil
Brings deeper feeling.
A simple and soft joy to again push ourselves into the detritus
Left behind by previous visits.
I open the place I want to put a potted plant.
The soft, pliant maw feeling for the light,
How long has it been?
For me it has been too many years since
I’ve made this journey.
The earth opens happily and waits for
The arrival of a new and joyous meeting.
This old man remembers days past
Feeling the shared delight of placing the gift
Into the place of fertility.
The briefest moment comes
When the hidden root passes from the container
To its new place.
The briefest sighting of the bare roots wound around
From the restriction of the encasement from
Which it has been released.
A transition from bound to free,
Loose earth in which to expand and spread.
Both the earth and the traveler touch,
Press together, and wait for the wash
Of wet life to fill the spaces. It is done.
It is done and there is a pleasing sense of accomplishment.
The scene is different but recognized for what it is.
A new living presence decorates the barren space,
To be admired and tended as it grows
And blossoms
And becomes part of a shared world.
A continuation of seeking,
Meeting, and
Inseminating to
Increase
Happiness.
G. M. Goodwin
10 September 2020
Playing Fair and Being Kind 
Beautiful poem!
Thank you, Nina!
While I was reading your description of the flower being freed from its container, and firmed into the soil, it triggered a memory of shedding my shoes, standing barefoot in the moist garden soil, imagining my toes were roots, and I was planting myself there.
You made some powerful images, and triggered a pleasant one of mine that you did not intend.
Thank you.
I learned a new thing after publishing this one. Three separate meaning were made by my three closest associates. Each had a very different vision of what it meant. Truly a good poem. You are a fourth responder with another take. I am happy!