Gardener at Heart - Book One

The Hose End

Soon as I drop the hose to pull some weeds,

An eager little person comes to it;

With shining eyes she gets down on her knees

And tells me not to move that hose one bit;

And clear and sweet the water softly flows,

And clear and sweet she talks and sometimes sings;

Her hands, now plastered brown, now washed to rose,

Intent upon the work of making things;

And mountains rise, lakes deepen, rivers flood,

And reservoirs are built and filled and breached;

She shows me funny sounds she makes with mud,

And how a castle melts into a beach—

    My clutch of weeds is gone—our knees are wet—

    We’re gonna make the biggest magic yet.

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