My Father is the Gardener
Oh no it’s that time again
He’s gone for His secateurs,
Someone’s in for attention
All the dead wood, broken branches
Last year’s fruit heading for the compost heap
He’s gone for His fork and hoe
getting tooled up
Ready for weeding , splitting digging up transplanting
or even thrown on the compost heap,
Frightened it going to hurt
if He starts landscaping my patch of ground
Took some time to grow this shape
will I survive?
Where does He want me?
Don’t think I want to be pruned
The weeds keep my feet warm
Keep your hands off
I happy growing where you first planted me
I’m happy where I am
My Father is the gardener
He tends His plants
Feeds, waters,
Separates the wheat from the chaff
Planting so we go forth, multiply
Be fruitful
in the place He chose for me
When in the cool of the day
He stops to take it all in
Smells the sweet fragrance
takes delight in His creation
takes delight in me,
Father is The gardener
He took time to tend me.
Oh no it’s that time again
He’s gone for His secateurs,
Someone’s in for attention
All the dead wood, broken branches
Last year’s fruit heading for the compost heap
He’s gone for His fork and hoe
getting tooled up
Ready for weeding , splitting digging up transplanting
or even thrown on the compost heap,
Frightened it going to hurt
if He starts landscaping my patch of ground
Took some time to grow this shape
will I survive?
Where does He want me?
Don’t think I want to be pruned
The weeds keep my feet warm
Keep your hands off
I happy growing where you first planted me
I’m happy where I am
My Father is the gardener
He tends His plants
Feeds, waters,
Separates the wheat from the chaff
Planting so we go forth, multiply
Be fruitful
in the place He chose for me
When in the cool of the day
He stops to take it all in
Smells the sweet fragrance
takes delight in His creation
takes delight in me,
Father is The gardener
He took time to tend me.
