Poetry

It is no surprise to me —

that we began in a garden.

We are not all that different

than the flowers and vines.

Some need a good soaking

in day-long sunshine,

others thrive in dappled light

of long, lean trees.

We find comfort in camouflage,

strength in sharp thorns –

when the unknown, the unsure,

the uninvited arrive.

And yet, there we are,

needing our toes in the soil —

the compost of days’ passed by.

So plant me by the sunflowers.

Let my roots grow deep.

Water me with grace;

nourish me with time.

And beneath the hidden ground

that sings the gospel of generations,

there is a whisper of new life

unheard before.