yes i did it
i confess to my crime
here are the particulars:

i came to steal a bit of earth
one early day in spring
no more than two, three trowels full
still right and left i looked
knowing well the thing i did was wrong
before i set to filling up my pail

i only need a little,
i said in my defense
what would the owner say?
tossed back my second thoughts
no more than two, three trowels full
it's nothing but a drop from the ocean
a little blue from
the skyscape of a starving
artist's brush

no use bothering him
he'll come by more
quicker than he knew he lost it
his books'll balance
no sleep lost
never the wiser

still it whispered
that old puritan
who hadn't heard of anything
but black and white
petty theft, i say
dirty, petty theft

but now i counter:

what greater good than feed it to the plants?
from them it came - to them it shall return
for the plants, by the plants
as was said of other things
they're always hungry
plants
never enough good soil
to go around these days
if so malnourished, the thing i do's
more of a service, really, than a sacriledge

so happy to have done the thing i did
away i went
pan full
behind me beneath a tree
a hole in a big ocean
with one less stroke of blue
hands dirtied by the crime