The bag contains all the necessary tools,
Shovel, compass, map, peanut butter sandwich.
Even though the map is a crude rendition
You are quite sure your trip will be a success.
Climbing the steep hill shortly after dawn
You rest under the crabapple tree.
Once again studying the map
Using the compass to check the coordinates.
Scurrying along the rose bushes
To the grapevines you drop to your belly
And crawl on elbows and knees
Past the cabbages finally reaching the rhubarb.
Most definitely the treasure is buried here.
Checking the map one more time
You realize you are standing on the spot
Marked with a big red X.
Plastic shovel in hand you get to work.
A long-eared rabbit watches you suspiciously
While it nibbles on a leaf of spinach.
You offer to share your sandwich.
After wiping the peanut butter off your hands
The digging resumes.
The clunk of plastic hitting tin
Makes your heart leap.
Grandma sits at the breakfast nook frowning.
Working feverishly with magic markers
She draws a diagram of the attic.
They are calling for rain tomorrow.
This article was published originally in 2015, in GreenPrints Issue #101.
