On the day that Brezhnev died

I dug and furrowed in my garden

A windswept but warm fall day

Planting radishes for a winter harvest

On my hands and knees I toiled

The blue cloud swirled sky above me

Cast shadows I barely noticed

As I plied the fertile California soil

The birds heading south seemed

Perhaps to me to be Arctic gulls and

Cars traversed the streets of Moscow as usual

On the day that Brezhnev died

                                 November 10, 1982