Mark 4

I am not a backyard garden;
I am a goat path few can tra-
verse—and none would think
to cultivate. But there is One
who often comes by, just because
he can. And sometimes

He walks the whole length of me.
Sometimes he is like a breeze,
sweeping up my spine; sometimes
he sits like summer air—dead.

But when he walks he scatters
seed from a little pouch he carries
under his arm. And it is wonderful seed.
He scatters it everywhere he goes.

Sometimes it surprises you how much
comes up in places you wouldn’t expect.
All along my unwelcoming path
there are patches of lush, growing grain.

And then sparse, dead patches
where nothing has caught—or else,
very little. It’s very slow work this,
because the way this garden works

Is the growth and decay of these little
plant roots. They bind up the soil,
and then loosen it like mulch
when they die—so that

Gradually, over time, the
areas of good soil expand
and the way through my life
becomes more pleasant and navigable.

I am becoming a garden
you would want to visit—
if just to see for yourself
the miracle of this seed.