Poem 2: The Provider's Song
The orchard offers up its sweetest yield,
While wild grass carpets every open field.
The rivers trace a path to bring us peace,
And bid the heavy storms of mind to cease.
In every seed that breaks the winter ground,
A fierce, protective loyalty is found.
Nature does not judge, nor does it hide,
It leaves the gates of abundance open wide.
It clothes the hills in robes of vibrant green,
The purest sanctuary ever seen.
To feed our hunger, and to clear our sight,
It bathes the weary world in golden light.
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