Here’s to the garden man
raises a sign on country road
hopes some passersby may come
buy vegetables
He digs deep his rich garden dirt
while his dog sniffs up your walking shoes
Here’s to his beaten chair
worn from sun baking
contemplating how long must he wait
for good news
Here’s to hours after midnight
gazing up at silent skies
listening to solace rolling through
still as art on the wall
Here’s to the moon
shining bright like a headlight
take a breath take it in
let down your delicate within
for now everything feels alright
