Farming in the Suburbs

I write bad poetry from time to time. I use this space to record it. I wrote this one in August, when the days were longer, social distancing easy, and online school a fading memory. Please feel free to skip it.

We got some heirloom kale seeds in March
In egg carton planters seedlings stood ten centimeters in April
Strong sunlight on the window sill, water measured in teaspoons

Now, in August, we eat kale salad
The kids tried kale chips
At home with science and vegetables
Science class long forgotten

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