I learned of grace from a spreading garden
From faces of violet and blue
Which tumbled over boulders placed in a slicing line,
And told of a place for flowers, which was not beyond their reach
And tried, I suppose, to keep the life in and the trodden path out
But the flowers did not notice, nor care it seemed
They grew so proud, so free, so unaware
Of where they were supposed to be
I learned of grace from a spreading garden
From the rocky, trodden ground
That even the most novice of planters would pronounce
Unfit for any beauty
And yet there in the rocks, under the feet, among perhaps
Even that splash of paint thinner I dropped last spring,
There they bloomed against all odds
And taller, even, than the ones within the walls
I perched in this spot in search of grace
And decided I knew nothing of soil
And looking at those sprightly blooms, wouldn’t you know
I found it