Seasoned Gardens
An hour in my garden starts the
day off right
And if I feel a little down the
garden sets me right.
With each and every weed I pull
I rid myself of gloom
And when I'm done the flowers smile
and dance with extra room.
In winter I enter my poetry garden
and work with words of colour
Or cut and sew with happy prints
to quilt a comfy cover.
My many-seasoned gardens are a
gift to me
And sunshine blooms in a lonely
heart and helps to set it free.
Joan Adams Burchell
(copyright)
