The Gardener
Lily, jasmine and roses
Tulips, carnations and daffodils
He adores and chooses
Cosmos, zinnia and daisies
His hands paintbrush of nature
His eyes tasters of beauty
He turns seeds in flower
His caring hands have power
Flowers are his babies
He nurtures and nurses
Liatris, orchids and quinces
Just like Prince and Princes
Springs come to treat him
The clouds stay to greet him
The breeze blows to meet him
None other to compete him
Sight of a withering larkspur
Anguish cuts him deeper
Seeing a lisianthus blowing
A profound delight bestowing
He places the Divine paintings
In splendid frame of garden
To meet the earth’s yearnings
His prolific hands are chosen
A Celestial color sprayer
The job he does is a prayer
Quatrains
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