On the outskirts, in a waste of clay and rock
unearthed when the Interstate went through,
he made his garden—leveled and cleared
the gutted soil. Then in early spring
he brought sacks of sphagnum and guano,
water in gallon jugs, since the spring rains
were never enough, and small bags of seed
with odd names: Early Girl and Black Magic;
Big Max, Straight Eight and Kentucky Wonder.
Testing, holding fast to that which was good.