Welcome back to The Daily Poem, a podcast from Goldberry Studios.

I'm Sean Johnson, and today is Monday, July 28, 2025.

And at the end of this week, friends of Goldberry Studios will be gathering in Concord, North Carolina,

to celebrate the 10th anniversary birthday, whatever you want to call it,

10 years of our sister podcast, mother podcast, Close Reads, the podcast for the Incurable Reader.

I think I've said this before, but in the world of podcasting, making it 10 weeks is an accomplishment. Ten years is

rather remarkable. It has been a long and enjoyable labor of love for all those involved,

and we are excited to celebrate all of the graces and blessings that have kept it going.

In that spirit, this week's poetry selection will be oriented around retrospectives

and celebrations and anniversaries and milestones of every kind.

Today's poem is by one of our favorites here at the Daily Poem, Rina P. Espayat.

She is in her 90s.

She's still working and encouraging young poets.

She is a brilliant poet herself and an all-around wonderful person.

And this is a wonderful poem.

It's called gardening.

And though last week I think I promised there

wouldn't be any more gardening poems for a while. This one merits an exception. And at the end of the

day, this is a poem that ends up being about far more than gardening. And it's a poem about

dirt that ends up being far more than dirt.

In fact, it's remarkable the juxtaposition because it begins in very tangible, earthy soil,

actual dirt.

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