The Landscapers\' Debate
Like hoofbeats my Heart beats steady and follows its feeling.
Appeals to the mind, asking permission even as it champs at the bit,
And pulls wildly, straining to have it\'s head.
I must think on its request;
Lest, it run wild and wreak havock.
Many paths lay ahead and we must not gallop blind
To avoid the poison oak, the cliffs, or dead ends.
Somewhere there are treasures to be found,
Somewhere there are true friends.
I\'ve worn daisies and orange blossoms thus far,
innocent and unassuming,
joyful and freely giving.
Young lilacs frolick among clouds of baby\'s breathe.
Do I dare intersperse them with a few delicate pink roses.
My heart prances slightly,
Oh please - they smell so sweetly!
Well, then maybe.
There is a swing in my garden,
Hung with ivy of trust, strong and forever
Lasting bonds that will endure.
I happen upon geraniums and give them a special place,
Among the sincere ferns.
Loyal blue, honest white, and gay sunshine
Bloom in the tulips below my swing.
Pansies flutter like butterflies
Among the precious zinnias.
In many plans we do agree,
But sometimes I must guide my heart protectively.
Not all flowers are kind or wise.
Some pretend, but are not so nice.
Some can grow to unmanageable size.
Is it possible that one rose has been growing,
In my garden, velvety red.
I spotted it while swaying in my swing.
Will I keep it trimmed and neat,
Or allow it to stretch out and unfold soft dark petals.
If I let it bloom abundant, will a ring,
Of honeysuckle also wreathe it\'s base.
Will it\'s thorns be small and dull,
Or large and sharp.
My wild heart sneaks a sniff of the sweet aroma,
But I rein him in.
My mind, ever practical, will assess the path,
Will attempt to decipher the meanings hidden there,
Play out the future along each road,
And puzzle out the fiery messages within my heart.
So that they keep me warm without burning this beautiful garden apart.
But in the end I listen carefully
For a voice beyond my heart and mind.
That will decide.