By what authority proclaimed, by what process or fair measure?
Removing living things deemed irritants…are they not also treasures?
Even seedlings have intrinsic beauty, some small redeeming grace.
Might I not display the buds upon my finest lace?
Dear Lord, who’s eye has deemed them such, to reach but never grow?
Should I weed a few, toss them aside, implying that I see
Why I should pull them from the soil – to never fully glow?
And pretend I understand the stewardship you’ve offered me?
To cast them out from Your green earth, I’ve found no meaning in this toil.
As gardener I shall choose to find a safe and sandy rest.
Perhaps a place You’d once designed lies hidden in the soil
Let rains renew old garden seeds to proudly sprout their best!
