Poem: The Smell of Earth

When you think of the word “Earth,” what do you think of? If you’re a sci-fi fan or into astronomy like me, you might think of the planet, with its big blue oceans and smattering of continents buried under white clouds. Or if you’re into gardening, you might think of the green plants that go into the brown soil—or sometimes reddish-brown depending on where you live.

For this poem, I decided to flip my own expectations, and focus on a color I don’t necessarily associate with Earth—the color white. That’s the fun thing about poetry, I suppose, turning expectations on their heads.

 

The Smell of Earth

white, the way the worm 

writhes beneath my fingertips 

submersing young roots

 

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Let’s chat! What did you think of the poem? Any fellow gardeners out there? What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of the Earth?

Similar poems: Cathedral Caverns, Copper Coated Autumn Leaves, and Down South