With neither claws nor shovel the worm creates passages in the soft earth, enriching it, allowing daylight and fresh air to enter.
The humble earthworm sits upon upward palms, this casual master of the soils.
I watch the peristaltic waves of the worm as it moves precious soil the length of its body.
Orion holds a pile of soil and worms in his hands, giggling as their movement tickles his skin.
The earth is truly alive, from the worm that brings aeration to the fungus and bacteria that lock in more nutrition for the plants that nourish the animal kingdom.
To see the worm in action is to question our excavating machines. How is it that this soft bodied creature succeeds so well where we assume amour plating and steel is required?
The worm moves onward, true to its purpose, to the earth what alveoli are to the lungs.
Through the craft of the humble earthworm, the pastures breathe anew.
A handful of worms can go on to achieve what man cannot, working night and day in quiet purpose.