The Gardener

Devoted is the gardener Who makes the flowers grow She tills the Earth and plants the seed And nurtures what she sows She cultivates the naked earth And tills it in her hand The blossoms that her work brings fourth Will decorate the land She labors each and every day From dawn 'til setting sun The gardener is vigilant Her work is never done She's one of nature's instruments A planter of the seed A prophet of divine intent A disappearing breed Though her hands are worn and calloused She has no time for rest She is part of something greater Her labors have been blessed And when her earthly toils are done She'll rest beneath the sod Then awake in a new garden Prepared for her by God This is dedicated to my Grandmother, Beatrice Spencer 1909-2003. She is always in my heart. Her gardens were always colorful, and beautifully maintained. She was a marvel, and the world is a far less vibrant place without her.