Poems, Personals, and Commentary

The Gardener

The Gardener

I cling to clods,

I dally in dirt.

I dig up the sod

And wait for God

To perform the miracle

Of seed to plant.

I work in the sun,

The cold and the rain;

Inclement weather

I do not disdain.

From dirty fingers

I do not refrain.

I witness a miracle:

Every day,

The miracle of life

Is on display.

When it’s time to plant,

I do not delay.

Such wondrous things

Do I perceive:

The seed, the seedling,

The first new leaf.

Continually the new thing grows;

When it will stop, only God knows.

Amazing thing,

That on its own,

The seed into a plant has grown.

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