When hands extend — the orchard blooms —
A richness steeped in unseen Grace.
Its Leaves murmur in shaded hymns,
“All is well” — the branches hum.
Affection swells, a crimson sphere,
While Joy drips soft, like golden dew.
Serenity sways — a quiet hymn,
And Hope ascends — a tender vine.
Kindness glints through the clustered green,
A sunlight threading every shade.
Peace hums an air that soothes the roots,
While Love burrows — enduring, deep.
No soil barren, no hour lost —
The Orchard sings — a life complete.