The Master Gardener

The Master Gardener toils with the soil

Gardening gloves, a sun visor and pruning shears, her constant companions

Her hands pull the weeds from the already dead square-foot garden

Remnants of a tomato plant and basil deep below

What remains, a fresh canvas of possibilities

The tiniest seed is planted and covered up in great faith

A sprinkle of water and a healing touch to begin

A new crop

A season of waiting yields a small, green leaf that brings great joy

The gardener’s eyes ever keen as she turns and inspects the harvest

Careful to remove anything that will choke and devour

Her fingers smell of sweet basil and green beans

The gift of growing that will feed many

The gift of peace that comes

As soon as her hands touch the dirt

Each garden tells a story, of love and friendship

Moments of great joy

And seeds sown with tears

Each patch planted leaves behind

Evidence of her time there

A constant reminder

Of the lives she affects

Ever pointing upward
To the Master Gardener Himself

Dedicated to Angela McGowan Barnard