I used to think

that earth was dirty,

that the dirty soil was bad and spoiled the cleanliness

I took for granted.

yet, now, older and riper,

I see the smudges of life

on her jeans, and smell

the rich loam that

wraps around her fingernails,

and being alive I know

that the dirtiness was a lie;

dirt was the realness which

my life lacked, and I have

her to thank...

as we prepare our rose garden together,

I plan... and I dig deep

wells that will hug the cloth-wrapped

roses, and she quietly covers

the sleeping buds with soft dirt

and daily tends to each one

with her special love...

I, the impetus, sometimes do not continue

and she, the catalyst, sometimes will not begin...

in His infinite wisdom and mercy,

He has spliced us together

like a master gardener creates

a new rose from the waste of

two lesser seeds...

from the garden I look back

to see what changed in me,

and looking down at my dirty

hands, I touch her lightly and

know that she is the change...