The Question

The sweat dripped on the soil As the seed was set in the ground It is with deliberate toil That life’s constraints unwound The seed sat on the shelf Patiently, silently awaiting touch Dormant and dead but full of health Thought not to amount to much But then the hand reached up high And took the see from place of rest And under the clouds and deep blue sky It took it to the eager earth – so blessed! And as the hand covered the seed with care - Like a mother a nestling babe asleep The earth responded with a life to bear To light to reach from covered deep The question is a simple one – Without the hand the seed still would sit But how was the race to life now won, By the hand or by the grit?