It's lonely at the top

The dusty, lovely rhetoric
Of outdoor living
Hacking, packing, hoeing, sowing

Acknowledge the poignancy
Of community
The bonds of dirt, and what grows in it
What comes of it?
Life and death, life and death
Hold it close, like the breath
Of fear. Let it go as a sigh
A bird on the wind. Relax.

Soar. Cut through the chaff.
Pay attention to
The debris of others and your own
Let the sun warm it through
The caress of rays seal and dry
The lash of rain

Yes, it can be lonely, all of it,
For sure
But for the birdsong, and
The background hum of industry
And the bonds, as convolvulus
That bind, until wild bees
Find the decayed remains
For propolis