She’s always in the garden
Beneath the dirt breathing her magic
Pressing mystery shoots into the sunlight
Opening pink picture petals.
I tilled the modest plot to start fresh
Yet it remains her domain
It is her beautiful earth
Her seeds and surprises bring it alive in May.
We plant and weed and tend
She feeds
We work
Yet the reward is not our doing.
This garden is God speaking in her voice
It is reborn for good and beauty.
