(A reflection on Verse Six)
I’m like a gardener who just tends orchids
Whose beauty I deem worth my care
Bringing only them into my greenhouse
Where warm mist pervades the air
All lesser plants and sorry weeds
I leave outside in cold and rain
Showing no patience for their brash tangle
Their offending thorns earn my disdain
To cultivate vast compassion I must
Shatter the fogged withholding glass
And venture smiling out into the garden
To tend the prickly and the crass.
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Copyright Deborah McGlauflin 2010. All rights reserved.