Poem: Standing in the Garden

Standing in the Garden

You stand in the garden,
aware that once it was barren,
the hard Vermont earth
bound by roots and stones,
a captive where life
withered and died,
strangled by the hardness
of a hundred years
of neglect.

You stand in the garden,
a place not of plants,
but soul, a place, like your own heart
that could not flourish
until you dug, found the killing stones
and strangling roots,
and ripped them from the earth
and replaced them
with loam and soft soil and seeds, and

most importantly,
faith
that a garden well tended,
will always
bloom.

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The picture is from a garden in Manchester, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom