I should have one garden bed
That I let go to jungle
( I’m not saying I don’t).
One that becomes lush and dark
With whatever God grows there
While I slumber through the night.
One whose secrets are not revealed
Until at the first hard frost of autumn,
One whose mysteries I will never
Put to order like silver bells
And cocker shells.
Oh and then
I shall speak to my orderly rows
And say, “See-
Why can’t you yield like them?”
Because wild salad
Gets joyously served at God’s table,
George R Pasley
May 20, 2020