Weeding Waltz Before the sun could turn its engine over I worked my blade between the rows of plants My shoulders pulling, slicing weeds and clover The rhythm of my motions like a dance; The earth my partner as we spun and dipped And music, green between us, urged us on Until I balked, surprised the hour had slipped Away, renewed and blinking sweat at dawn. ~ S.K. Orr     [inspired in part by Francis Berger’s musings on manual labor]