The Signal
when i’m digging my hands
into the soil
my arms are antenna
my fingers a coil
transmitting a signal
older than words
it’s speaking in tongues
of ten thousand hertz
under my fingernails
millions of molecules
all but a syllable
in a poem without rules
my grip becomes tighter
holding what’s flowing
I’m making it lighter
allowing roots growing
this is the motion
of age-old digestion
contract, release, consume and excrete
“for what?” Is my question
the signal erupts
starts wiggling along
whispers on my skin
The answer’s not long:
“This is the earthworm brain
Speaking to you
Maintaining life in the soil
Is what we all do
Not only us worms
Bacteria, funghi, microscopic friends
All partake in this wonderful dance
And don’t forget – also your hands!”
My fingers vibrating
From their nurturing poem
Are now partaking
in restoring our home