Rooting down inside the soil of today’s plantings,
what is there to find of nourishing value
to those forced to hunt for food?
Will my table be full of happy gleanings,
the imperishable crumbs of imperfect bread
dipped in the eternal whimsy of Photo: www.trappist.net
God’s good thoughts?
Will those left knocking outside
the door of my own inner garden
remain in hungered silence?
Or, will the gardener open up
the squeaky gate that leads to nowhere
and feed paupers on a king’s repast?
If only that can be found,
then this has been a good day.