A tiny bit of heaven grows
In secret places no one knows
Sometimes a corner near a hedge
Or closeby at the garden’s edge
Under a pine tree by the fence
With smell of violets intense.
Around a tree stump you can see
Peat moss plays host to wild daisy
The dandelions tramp all about
While peonies their color flout,
Oh such a sight for all to see
And witness as God’s litany !
I look outside, what do I see
A field of violets smiles at me
While over in the corner there
Two lilacs do their blooms compare.
Hydrangeas all like spreading out
They love the space and so they shout
“Hey, look at me, I’m gussied up
My blossoms fill your largest cup !”
Consider all the dandelions
They are the brighest of all kinds
And when they grow close to the ground
They’re the best cover to be found.
I’d like to think that flowers know
How much we love them as they grow
And keep themselves sweet as they can
In tribute to God’s love of man !
Blossoms in the garden, how shall we bear their loss
Soon the winds of autumn will all their petals toss
How often in past summers and the springtimes too
That flowers smiled and waved most of each daytime through.
All the fragile magic and all the fragrant smells
Folded in those tiny buds resting in their shells
What would this world look like without the shades of green
Plus God’s rainbow colors and everything between ?
Wherever you look this world is shaded in green dye
From the forest’s floor clear to a rainbow in the sky,
A verdant place live with the miracle of God’s care
Plush valleys, woodlands and mountains that rise in the air.
What is green? I know that its not these roads that I trod
But the friendly gardens I pass that wave me a nod,
The blazoned grass in the fields and the oak when it’s young,
The trees that cover each grove with their seed as they’re sprung,
Grasshopper’s in flight emitting sounds that echo and hum,
No, not the air that we breathe but the source that it’s from.
Green’s my favorite color and the color of pine
Like the stem of each flower and the stalk of each vine,
The crest of each hill that’s burdened with blossoms it blows,
The fruits of the orchard and the tall corn as it grows,
Solemn moss upon a rock that betrays not its age,
A bird’s chorus sung from a branch, the air as its stage.
What is green? The deep of the sea, the heart of a palm
The chant of the willow’s sweep like the words of a psalm,
Caterpillars at birth and the new bud of a rose,
The youth of a man, the lid of his grave at its close,
The rigid eyes of a cat while its vigil will keep
In silence watching some prey, seeming lulled into sleep,
And there, like vespers in the wind that scatters its seeds
Fast being held in the grasp of life’s swift spreading weeds
Tiny sprouts that protrude through the wet earth after rain
Are now promising me hope that the green will remain.
While the green of an emerald possesses great worth,
The best of life’s green is bound to the crust of the earth
Be glad that green’s the one color we cannot replace
It relieves the monotony of blacks, browns, and grays.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 