NO FAULT GARDEN

For Bob & Violet Plummer

In a garden, where love takes root,

No misstep mars the tender shoot.

Each seed, though sown with trembling hand,

Blooms fierce in soil where dreams expand.

A crooked row, a weed's embrace,

Finds beauty in the heart's own grace.

For what is error in this art?

Each flaw's a pulse of gardener’s heart.

It shifts, it grows, it bends, it sways,

An endless dance through fleeting days.

No rigid plan can hold its soul—

Love’s quiet hope makes chaos whole.

And when a stranger’s gaze doth fall,

Upon the blooms, both grand and small,

They’ll feel the warmth, the silent care,

The love that lingers in the air.

A garden, loved, can never err,

Its every breath a soft prayer.

Evolving still, through time’s sweet glide,

It whispers love to all beside.

Somewhere down the gravel, the neighbor farmer

carries a new weight in his chest,

a diagnosis shaped like winter.

We bring him soup he will barely touch

and sit in the kitchen saying almost nothing—

the most honest conversation we know how to have.