Surely they must think it strange
To till the earth daily, dedicated so
Without fear of the beings there
That coexist outside of their world
So very little can they understand
Less yet they would care to know
Only seeking immediate needs
And vanish with a new trophy kept
A strange sphere of soil spinning
Where only dirt and labour grow
Things naturally alien plotted out
Unable to identify their tenure
Not boxed, or shelved conviently
A conundrum as to consumption
Furrowed or foraged all the same
The terrestrial bounty is alien
To care for the earth, a lesson here
And know the tides of life's flow
Appreciating a harvest's yield earned
Understanding returning to it