Poem based on 3rd Sunday after Pentecost Mark 4:26-34

Late into the night we talked of God
Or not
Veering uncomfortably
From disagreement
--to conflict
until by morning
blurry eyed and defeated
we both went
--about our work
each coiled against the onslaught
of what had been
purging ourselves
of any word
--or thought
that may have found entrance
into our well defined courtyard
of self indulgence
not knowing
--that one small seed
not recognized
----or claimed
by either party
lay dormant
waiting for the rains of change
to bring to life
--the life
----that grew there
I awoke one day
To a garden of beauty
For which
I could claim no hand
And I wept
At the joy

That was mine


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