there is a porch
in my mind’s quiet place
broad, shaded, open
where I sit and look out
at my garden of words
listening
enjoying
watching words waving
in the gentle breeze of memories
each seed
an echo
of planting
caring
weeding
hoping
waiting
wondering
would faith be rewarded
would something glorious appear
sometimes
unexpected beauty blossomed
sometimes
no matter the effort expended
new life never sprouted
yet still I garden with words
planting, caring, hoping
sitting on my porch each day
marveling at the miracle
of creativity
tio stib
2019, 2020
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