His Garden Children Poem by Edmund V. Strolis

Upon entering the room I froze
He stood staring outside, oblivious to me
His once strong hands, soft upon the sill
Lost in a solemn peaceful trance

How wonderfully starkly sad
Seeing him on his feet once again
His pajamas baggy, his shoulders stooped
slippers now for shoes

Spring had mercifully arrived once again
His awakening garden children waited for him
Yet the well worn trowel rested upon the shelf
How he longed to feel the soil turn

Once more the spring sparrows came
Setting up shop in the tiny birdhouse
As the last ice in the fountain melted
And the Lily of the Valley rejoiced

His mind never ceased to marvel at this
Even more as the curtain lowered
His unblinking eyes in quiet wonder celebrated
He was for a moment released I think

No corner of his green world was neglected
He found home for orphaned wayward flowers
While collecting eye catching stones from anywhere
Huron, Superior or an abandoned city lot

His garden children all came with a story
A rosebush gift from a grateful patron
A flower from an Alpine mountain trail
Smuggled through customs with extra care

Yes, I take more time now in caring for my garden
Lost in a blooming, buzzing tangle of Ivy heaven
With his trowel's worn handle I turn the soil
Mindful of the fragile buds.