A bit of ground had beckoned once;
Softened, sandy-colored soil;
Rooted deeply, wherein Choice and
Chance diminished symmetry,
Yet offered solace still for me.
Simply, plainly, unadorned…
Tinted leaves in sky-kissed blue.
When prayers waft through my garden bed,
I find the dreams I’d planted there.
A Master’s Hand had long ago
Spread wide the scent-filled plumes,
So I might seek His Opened Arms.
Simply, plainly, unadorned…
Rich honey-golden hues.