The Gardener
by Hallet Thalheimer

 He sits on a stone, the gardener
Hands ungloved, feeling airy loam beneath his fingers
Shaping it into something
Diverse. Effervescent. Exotic
He takes dirt, transforms it into aloes, cedars
Tall and imposing, menacing yet beautiful
From tidy rows spring lettuce, kale, Swiss chard
From a wild scattering, dandelions and apples
From the young girl, sunflowers vibrant and upturned
From the elderly, cabbage and peas
The sailor tends to his
Brussels and beans, The aeronaut, his date-palms.
The widow, thyme, oregano, a sprig of rosemary
Just one minute acorn forms an oak. Just one trivial cone grows a pine
A gardener must linger, be persistent. Tend to his plot
Must water. Must aspire. Must trust

I am a gardener

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Poem Copyright 2013 by Hallet Thalheimer


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