First Earlies

he's a soldier, of the turf
and his battleground is
my garden,
He stands for all he's worth,
preserving the borders,
and no mans land, which is
mine, barking instruction
of how to double dig
in  fashion he demonstrates,
for me to replicate , 
digging little trenches,
spades cut virgin Earth
 stabbing with a dibbler
 I march forward...
in parralel lines,
following his order,
pellets from all sides,
and in the midst,
up to my eyes in chit
he observes, like a Marshal
no slackers in his regiment 
it's the drill ..
falling in with  it,
strictly to the code,
I must not falter..
Earthing up with mulch
in long lines of pyramids
one potato two potato
waiting for the sun
to explode