I sit behind a glass
a window pane
looking out at
my barren garden
longing for sun and warmth
longing to dig in the earth
longing for green shoots
pushing always upwards
longing for blossoms
longing even to do battle
with varmints and bugs
longing for the robust
harvest that follows
a gardeners toil
—–
rhymeswithbug 
I’ve always thought it was magical, how little seeds and plants know just what to do, given soil, sun, and water 🙂
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it is magical, isn’t it?
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I love this poem, I will repost on mine but will of course cite you, and ask people to have a look at your blog while I am at it.
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thanks for reposting me! I’m honored. I’ll check you out too.
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It takes a special person to be a gardener – I often wish I had it in me. It’s things like your poem that inspire me! 😀
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even a plant in a pot can be a garden 😉
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True. 🙂
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