The warm weather has set in
being late February. trees
shed their leaves. Krishna,
my gardener sweeps
the whole morning.
He rests under the shade,
stretching his body, fills
the green wheel barrow
with yellow leaves
Sweating, Krishna
pushes the barrow
to the backyard, heaps
allows them to dry.
Waters periodically.
takes great care.
The leaves rot
turn dark, Krishna
turns the pile bringing
the underneath up
while the fresh go below.
It is home made manure
organic in every sense. I ask him
to segregate them into finest,
coarsest and medium. Marks
according to grade.
The finest is spread
in the flower beds,
the medium applied
to the hedges, the coarsest
go tot he trees.
All done with no fanfare,
carried on for years
by me in my garden
I do not affix the tag
Organic to my produce.
Meenas Poems 