How does my garden grow,
I wish I could tell you but I don't really know.
You just dig and dig to pull the rocks from the ground.
Sometimes till your fingers are bloodied and sweat just flows down.

It keeps my mind busy to build and grow, to keep thoughts away that hurt just so. I wake so early my mind starts to spin and to feel the dirt between my fingers, to think I am fertilizing this earth with my heart and soul.

Very carefully putting my black matting down to keep the weeds blocked out and keep things at bay. I dig and plant till the fog goes away. The sweat trickling down along the way with salty tears of sorrow.

But as my work becomes complete it is not an ending as I watch the sun rise and seeing the landing of two geese. They just stare and then barely give me a glance. Why do I make such a big garden to plant, if only to share as it grows.

How does my garden grow,
I wish I could tell you but I don't really know.
All I can say is my blood, sweat and tears will tell all and
allow me to share my love, caring and tomorrow.*

CMH