Flowers sprout
with fierce purpose.
Pushing, unnoticed, til thru
dark and unconscious earth
they poke, appear, and sing.

Blossoms of hope,
of song, of trailing beauty
and fragrant comfort.
My heart soars,
rises like the wave rises
and longs for Her
as the wave’s curl
longs to break
onto the shore
and be wasted there
in adoration…
and I too
will break on her
and rush over this earth
as a tide of fragrant blossoms.
This girl,
your garden of Grace,
this Grace
Golden
Grateful and
Glad.