The Garden

The garden grows, full and fine,
Flowers and fruit, from the vine.

Sweet is the fruit, fragrant the flowers,
Yet for some, their heart it sours.

They stand afar off and "it's wrong" they declare,
But how can they know from way over there?

They can't, that's the problem, there's no way to know,
When into the garden they won't even go.

Maybe it's not what they'd choose to plant,
But they shouldn't decide that it's bad based on that.

If they don't walk among the flowers and take in the scent,
How can they decide the seeds were misspent?

The sweetness of the fruit speaks for itself,
But they can't ever know if it's just stuck on a shelf.

But if they just decide that the garden is bad,
Then none of the beauty is theirs to be had.

The value of the garden, in the fruit it is found,
Good things only grow out of good ground.

By Diana DePriest
© June 28, 2011