How fast my gardener’s spade can reap a secret place to pine
Days like these mean petals must oblige: the rules are mine
Know well my heart’s disruptive pace, discordant reverie
I’ll need no bench; the ground will hold my weakened, soulful me
No need to use a garden hose or soak the planted ground today
My tears will soon enough default ‘round stepping stones set deep in clay
The salty drops will wind their way beneath the growth and cut anew
A different path where I might see life’s blessings in a different view
Where roses camouflage my wounded mind and frail gait
Mindfully, I enter into His Garden. Let the outside world await!
Stillness comes to comfort who before held anguished fears
When one can only plant a thought…He hears.