Seeds And Its Flowering Past Poem by Peter S. Quinn

I am not as Robert Frost
For I can not cultivate a tree
In that occupation I am lost
Never for a time to be
Something with the seeds growing
Or flowers coming through
These are fields I am not in knowing
Or how them - each to renew

Life forms in that glowing seed
This from the earth is born
Is something I only about read
Until the pages are worn
For it must be exiting to know this
To cultivate land by one’s hand
Turning wilds to a garden of bliss
And know it - and to understand

The Garden of Eden coming free
With the hands that have grown
Something for others to see
And you can call quite your own
Wonderment in its own rightful way
With flowers giving and last
Seeing the rising of a new coming day
In seeds and its flowering past