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