Thoughts In a Garden

THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN Let me stand on a the beach after a storm in the intermittent sun, Or breathe in winter-filled mornings when the air is still, Or have my daughter’s warm hand in mine as we talk and laugh, And watch my sons strong and eager work amongst Flowers in a garden whch I have allowed to grow freely. Let me find again the old lady selling cucumbers On the snow-covered bridge, who was ready With small change for the next customer: Let me be the next one: and take all her wares And send her home for the day to warmth and safety. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entered in ^Rick Parise’s Contest A Verse In Your Book Of Incandescent Thoughts