Double Primroses (Agnes's Song)

I am a daughter of a daughter, I am mother and grandmother, I am woman, student, and teacher Of land, roots, leaves, and flowers. In Spring, the clarion trumpet calls; I scout the woodlands and hedgerows, To drink the beauty and the wild sports— Primroses paler, ruffled, or hose-in-hose. Lifting gently, I slip and divide, With hope held steady in my hands, To set and nurture them alive Deep in the shade of quiet lands. Soot to banish slugs and darken green, Wet manure, hand made dung tea, Crushed eggshells and wood-ash sheen, Lime and pot ash, working in hush. And old pond mud to cool the spirit, To soothe the roots in summer’s heat. When cool and darkening lead to Winter— To dank cold uncertainty— Stars twinkle in my old crocks, Set bright upon the kitchen sill. Promise that life will birth anew, and joy will rise with the morning sun. I am a daughter of a daughter, I am mother and grandmother, I am woman, student, and teacher Of land, roots, leaves, and flowers. My skill is in the means of living, These doubles I birth, these gifts I bear, Simply my offering, fellow daughter— Primroses breathing across centuries of time.