Miles ago when I was young,
And days were filled with running, breezes, sun...
I watched my grandma garden,
Saw her hands work deftly in and out through soil and sands,
And marveled that she willingly so toiled.
I could not bear to get my hands that soiled.
But she just looked at me and, smiling, said,
"You best not keep that notion in your head.
This is CLEAN dirt... remember what I say...
Don't soil your hands with what won't wash away."