Here

I am awake

For both the sunrise

And the sunset

Transplanting cabbage by hand

I kneel upon the ground

In gratitude and surrender

My fingers too soft still

For the jagged soil

My mind fluttering

Like a moth

In my slow body

Harvesting tomatoes 

I know I should be quick

That my motions come down to numbers and costs

But all I remember

Is the yellow sheen of the baby hairs on the vine 

My fingers caked brown green from the juices

And the slime

Is being a farmer anything more than 

Making one's work one's life?

Being present with both the beauty

And the strife?

Nicole W. - Intern fall, 2016