I was Thinking, or Not

It is spring, I should be planting leaf plants right now. What phase is the moon in, not digging in the ground phase, this I am certain, it doesn't feel that way. I lose the connection here in this collection of tin boxes. I just sit here looking at the ground, it is an ugly greenish brown, with no heart and no soul, sucked dry of its primary purpose, to make way for lawns and the occasional patch of window box flowers gone astray. The tarmac a stark contrast, broken in so many places, waiting to depart, hungry for demise, to empty horizons and fresh new earth, turned gently to expose the new seeds of germination. Release the carbons of ages, and the gases of the underworld to heat the atmosphere with its hot temperance. Thin bladed stuff this grass, not holding much and producing even less, kept short so it will be pretty to the uncultured eye.Do you not see this as a common trait, an ancestor of the late and nearly forgotten fruits of the forest that once thrived before the