Hate it, stomp on it, try to dig it out: It sends its roots even deeper
Mow it off: And the next morning it’s back, smiling, bringing friends to greet your day.
It has no ovaries: It merely reproduces because that’s what it was meant to do.
Always available, it welcomes the hands of a small child, knowing that even should it be plucked from its moorings, it will bring joy to that child, and a smile to the child’s mama.
And when it grows old—
AHH! When only a fuzzy white head appears where once was the bloom of youth
The winds of adversity, or even the puff of tiny lips, will scatter the seed the heart of the plant produced.
And more will come, more will bloom, more will send roots deeper and deeper
Because it was content to be what God created it to be, and do what it was created to do.
Oh! That I should be so faithful!!