Rooting down inside the soil of today’s plantings,

what is there to find of nourishing value

to those forced to hunt for food?

Will my table be full of happy gleanings,

the imperishable crumbs of imperfect bread

dipped in the eternal whimsy of                 Photo: www.trappist.net

God’s good thoughts?

Will those left knocking outside

the door of my own inner garden

remain in hungered silence?

Or, will the gardener open up

the squeaky gate that leads to nowhere

and feed paupers on a king’s repast?

If only that can be found,

then this has been a good day.