Hands

A hand rough with callouses, pushes little indents in the soft brown soil. A chubby dimpled fist drops two or three seeds in each little hole. Every day, those hands carefully water the seedlings. They shoot up fast and strong. But the hands stop coming. The young plants struggle to push their roots through the drying soil. Soon, the yellowed leaves shiver in the blistering breeze. Their shriveled stems cling desperately to the stalk. The entire plant is stunted. No flowers have bloomed. No fruit has ripened.

Finally, the chubby hands return and trace a dimpled finger over the dying crops. A soft pair of hands that the plants have never seen before pinches a leaf between the forefinger and thumb and plucks it. It shows the leaf to the small one. "Aphids on the underside."