playing with large toys and big piles.

I’ve never been more rich than standing atop my very own compost heap.  black gold, it’s what they call it, and now I get it.  the rich, moist, lush, cake like, black wonder that is well made compost is finer than any three piece suit I’ve ever donned.  I feel alive atop it.  death back to life, and vibrant once again.  from it’s womb new flesh will shoot, spring, and pop from the ground.  it will grow, bloom, wither, shrivel, and die back to the living soil.  back to the mother.  back to the earth.