Ode to a spreading garden

 

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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

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