The Gardner purchased his land
the soil eagerly awaited in mouth agape
like a wedding where seed is thrown
the ceremony flew in on a scarlet cape.
His hands, like spades, dug in the dirt
cleansed impurities of rocks, weeds, and thorns
he could not avoid the occasional brush
burning with a heat of passion, a heat of scorn.
The seasons passed, the harvest supplied
he rejoiced like the sun’s setting on the mount
his hands clasped–as an ocean between lands
the Gardener’s praises too numerous to count.
A new time, a new commitment, begins again
the road less traveled is sojourned by gardeners few
who know the oath’s a redundant cycle
to a spouse that needs the grounds renewed.