God's Gardener

GOD'S GARDENER

She toiled out in her garden, chopping weeds with a rusty hoe,
Her feet very close together, her back all stiff, and bowed.

Making measured raking motions, then she'd shuffle inches more,
Slow, but ever patient, ninety years her shoulders bore.

Long plaid dress with apron, house-slippers on her feet,
She tended to her mustard greens, sweat peas and sugar beets.

She wore a linen bonnet, tied beneath her wrinkled chin,
She was the keeper of our history, all our distant kin.

She loved to watch the sun come up, and paint the sky with gold,
To rock in her chair and read the Book, and let her life unfold.

Though living had sapped her body, her mind was young and spry,
She possessed an energy and good humor; quiet mischief in her eyes.

She left us several months ago, peacefully, in the night,
Now I know she tends God's garden--and there's not a weed in sight.

End

Honorable Mention in

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Round 2.









2nd Place poetry winner in "Invalid Item"