Dear Mother Earth
the rain cannot should not be hail now
not in April when early coral bells silently struggle to bloom.
Tiny rosebuds peek out
from weedy coils wrapped round
dirty fingernails,
as thorns draw blood
from flesh
-oh where did I put the garden gloves-
a prickly rose red with blood now
crowns the garden
A reminder that
He whose Life was not cut short
His spirit being eternally begotten
taught us to pray in gardens
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