Men gardening, knees bent as if
In prayer to something forgotten, trying
To be remembered.

Men gardening, centuries of civilization
Dropping off them like husks, shadows of
Stalks, leaves, laying across them
Like tribal tattoos.

Men gardening, brows muddy
Painted with sweat, soil, swirling designs of
Passion and desire. 

Men planting, knees bent in submission
In some remembered act of insemination
Some means of participating in a miracle.

Flowers spring forth from frustration of
Days in offices, from days behind the wheels of cars.
Vegetables growing, plumping from the pain of
Days arguing in court rooms and nights
Pouring over accounts.

Men gardening, knees bent as if in prayer,
For something better, for something different.
Praying for something forgotten 
And trying
To be remembered.