The Garden

Part I
Within my strong towers
I look at the flowers,
          So many — each different — so brilliantly bright.
They grow all around me,
Completely surround me
          With heavenly beauty and earthly delight.
While lost in my wonder
I hear distant thunder
          And watch as the ebony clouds fill the sky.
Then closing my windows
I feel how the wind blows
          And see how the willowy flowers comply.
Inside fires warm me
As evening brings stormy
          Tempestuous rains casting fear into men.
I walk through the hallways,
Retire as always
          But long for the morrow and daylight again.

Part II
Outside of my towers
I stand with the flowers,
          So many — each different — so brightly ablaze.
I walk through my garden
As earth starts to harden;
          The morning sun rising to burn off the haze.
The night rains have ended,
The sun now attended
          A world full of color in splendid array.
And I am beholding
The gentle unfolding
          Of blossoms embracing the warmth of the day.
In true celebration
Of regeneration,
          They silently seem for the heavens to reach —
To offer sweet nectar
To God, their Protector,
          Creator and Artist and Sculptor of each.

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