The hands that planted a garden

The hands were the ones that traced the dirt.
They were the ones that split the earth.
The pot shook as the hands squeezed first.
Hands on the stem as soil spilled on shirt.

The hands were the ones that lowered down.
They were the ones that held the tree.
One day, this place would be full of green.
But it took a simple step, close to ground.

The hands were the ones that took the hose.
They were the ones that turned the water on.
And showered life with water that ran on.
Across the leaves and across their toes.

The hands were the ones that planted a garden.
And they were the ones of anyone who tried.