The day I sowed you.
Springtime´s clock hand pointing to lush.
Seeds and excited cotyledons.
When you germinated, I was contented.
The sun invited you and the wind vented.
The growth of your leaves and stems saw my merriment arrive.
The sweet soil I´d prepared for you dark and alive.
Branches gave way to shoots.
Tiny flowers were replaced by to fruits.
God in nature is abundant and marvellous,
as summer´s clock hand pointed to harvest.
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