Another old poem

Seemingly
We have planted seeds
As your steady hand packs
My wavering one slips
And spills the seeds
Handfuls of seeds
That would have bloomed colorfully
But it appears
The seeds have been devoured
By the tiny black insects that crawl the earth
Foolishly I spilled the seeds
And fed these pests to their indulgence
Fed them until they tauntingly died
with the seeds still in their bodies.