‘Guess you got a ticket out of here huh?’ replied the ex-prisoner’s bunkmate.

  ‘God willing I’ll make something outta the land,’ was the quiet, ardent reply.

  See the homeless shelter refrained from sheltering her for long and she left. Outside the building a man picked her up. They travel to a piece of land.

  ‘I consummated my promise to you,’ said he. Adding it’s her duty to pry the goodness from the land. Per agreement handed over tools and seeds then left.

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  For an abode exists a shack on the acreage. Day after experience as a prison gardener came into play with the planting of seed. These need time to grow, meanwhile supported herself with odd jobs. Goal being to live off the land in the future.

  Day by day an observer can see it – germinating seeds turning into young plant shoots pushing upwards through the soil, into the sun’s rays, all the while tended by her.

  Time took sides and this land bared its bounty, the promise of fruit and vegetables. Shrewdly sold at market, the earnings relegate odd jobs to the past. Not content planted more with the earnings.

  Her labour filled a niche people took notice of. The acreage saw customers come to buy produce, a lucky boon it was near the roadside.

  The man showed up. The woman explained occurrences while the land was in her charge. Adding quietly giving all to the land made it give all its bounty in return. She and the land haven’t stopped giving each other. That harvest land.