rewind to Autumn
when I inherited a raised bed garden from the teacher before me,
soil cracked and dry, tan remains
of weeds bending in time to the heat blast wind
today I gardened with three year olds
rewind to February,
conversations of what to plant when
sprouting out of the mouths of those whose thumbs were
decidedly greener than mine
today I gardened with three year olds
rewind to collaborative planning meetings,
pencils filling in grid boxes with spring activities,
pastel colors wash over the page,
scrawled into the science column, a sunflower
today I gardened with three year olds
rewind to last month,
supply purchases made, sunflower seeds donated,
small plastic spoons of chocolate soil
fill washed out plastic cups, the yoplait labels faded
today I gardened with three year olds
rewind to 3 weeks ago,
pincer grasp “just one,
that’s not one, that’s four, see 1,2,3,4, just one” seed,
place it on dirt. I discover that toddler fingers
are the perfect length to plant deep enough
today I gardened with three year olds
we sat in the newly shining sun,
marveled together at the small plants,
some still clinging to their seed pod,
earthworms discovered in rain soaked mud
today I gardened with three year olds
fast forward to an unknown future,
speculations of how big all of these beings,
blooms, and children, love and togetherness, will grow,
I agree when they dream of our flowers touching the sky
Poem by Dane Lyn
Dane Lyn is a neurodivergent, genderqueer, educator, poet, and glitter enthusiast with an MFA from Lindenwood University. Find them in L.A. with their partner, constructing blanket forts, caring for their menagerie of teens, snakes, lizards, dogs, rabbits, and cats, and ridding their shoes of beach sand. Dane’s work can be seen in Quillkeepers, Gutslut, and Imposter. @punkhippypoet is where you will find them on Instagram and Twitter. Links to all published writing found at DaneLyn.net
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