Gardener's Plaint

A word, a seed in need of rain today,
A wait with spring ten thousand years away,
An eye that flows with pain for those unborn,
A heart that aches beneath a glacial thorn.

A tongue with sounds what mind can bear to hear
Ten thousand tongues, but why is hope not near?
A million years and still there's not a tree
On Earth. Where's human birth, where's green to see.

A globe of ice, of snow that will not go,
A soul that wails as winter gales still blow,
A gardener in grief in frozen white,
Alone and blinded by the endless night.

Can spring at last arrive and morning shake
An age of ice away, at last awake
A sun to shine upon the soil of Earth
And stars attend a long expected birth?

A million years the myriads have yearned
That Earth's inhabitants harmony learned.
A galactic garden of sentience
Would greet a human tree's appearance.

Michael McKenny, 10/10/2005

This poem was finished, to the extent that it is, at 4 AM today.


Solarguard Poetry



Solarguard Home Page