In the midst of chaos and noise,
You tend to your garden, unmoved by the strife,
Your flowers bloom, a symbol of poise
And wisdom that transcends the turbulence of life.
For you and your garden are one,
A source of fleeting yet profound delight,
With beauty snatched, a feeling of being undone,
But who can claim a more fleeting and wondrous sight?
You have somehow stolen the essence
Of the loveliness that surrounds you,
Flaunting your gains with no pretense,
A profiteer of nature’s bountiful view.
I exclaim against your shameless ways,
For the joy you find in your toil,
Should not come so easily, I say,
In a world tarnished by turmoil.
But you, in your old, rough dress,
Bedaubed with clay and endless grime,
Find colorful living in a world grown dull, no less,
Bringing quiet sufficiency in weakling times.
Your delicate happiness, so beautiful,
Lights up the belittered, grimy ways,
And surely, I will forever recall
Your smudgy face parading such joyous displays.
As you tend to your garden with care,
Laughing gently at life’s dastardly days,
Know that your presence is a rare
And meaningful praise.
For in the act of tending to your vines and bushes,
You make a brave, sly mock at the darkness around,
And in that, find the beauty that rushes
Out amidst the chaos, making life profound. (\"Stolen Essence\") by Courtney Weaver Jr.