Soil

I look upon a plot of soil,
And in it I can see.
Something very valuable,
It beareth up a tree.

Little rootlets...take ahold,
And on it gently feeds.
A flower bright and beautiful,
Grows in a nest of weeds.

Water runs around the edge,
To make it much alive.
Briers grow...and dandelions,
They almost always thrive.

It must of been the glaciers,
That picked up all the grits.
And in their moving forward,
It ground them all to bits.

But soil is such a fertile thing,
When it makes all things to grow.
And there is a secret down within,
Which only God...doth know.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Fairy Garden by Leslie Miller