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
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