"underneath this colossal tree with its condor-wings"

noticing the labor of others

“Orchids” by Marianne North, British Victorian botanical artist. Oil on canvas.

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Touch the Earth (once again)

by Juan Felipe Herrera

This is what we do:
this is what the cotton truck driver does:
this is what the tobacco leaf roller does:
this is what the washer-woman & the laundry worker does:
this is what the grape & artichoke worker does:
not to mention the cucumber workers
—not to mention the spinach & beet workers
not to mention the poultry woman workers
not to mention the packing house workers &
the winery workers & the lettuce & broccoli
& peach & apricot & squash & apple &
that almost-magical watermelon
& the speckled melon & the honey-dew the workers
this is what they do:

notice: how they bend in the fires no one sees
notice: their ecstatic colors & their knotted shirts
notice: where they cash
their tiny & wrinkled checks & pay stubs:
stand in that small-town desert sundries store
then walk out they do & stall for a moment they do
underneath this colossal tree with its condor-wings
shedding solace for a second or two notice:
how they touch the earth — for you

Excerpted from EVERY DAY WE GET MORE ILLEGAL: Poems by Juan Felipe Herrera
Published by City Lights Books, 2020.

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Creative Invitation

Our interdependence is staggering. I love this poem by Juan Felipe Herrera for ending on the words "for you” — for ending on the truth. They feed us. They touch the Earth for us who eat. I am not outside of the poem, not just watching. I eat the food they harvest. I taste the solace they glimpsed in a moment’s rest.

Let us hold with reverence the humanity of those who labor so we may exist. Today, say thank you to someone you have not thanked before ~ out loud or on paper.