Questioning, curious, he wanted to help,
So she let him space tiny seeds
In their furrows. “Pat gently; we’ll water them well,
And later on look out for weeds.
“Then one day the flower will riot and bloom
So that butterfly, bird-friend, and bee
Will visit our garden to dance and to sing,
And surely they’ll thank you and me.”
But much more than flowers they planted this day,
As mother well knew from the start;
For who can predict what in future may grow
From the seed gently placed in his heart?
by Ray Romine Saturday, April 7, 1951
