Out of old earth that the worms ate

the grim garden began to grow

as peas, dull dragons, unwound and dipped

rough leaves the land had licked,

lulled with a lingering dust of crumbs

left by the tongue of the turned-up

underground dirt. Over the earth,

beans bent their bowed figureheads,

hunched so heavy, held so hard,

it filled them with force to face furrows,

send out the wings of their small sails

into the wind, and walk waves.

From Eve