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.
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