GENTLER TOUCH
I saw the wind winnow the wheat with a gentle touch,
Not like the thrashers cruel firm hand in a great rush,
Yet the task was done with kindness, the seeds laid
On rich soil to sink as the mother stems are decayed.

Fertile fields fed, folded and seeded with natures hand,
Then the following spring shoots as numerous as the sand
On some beach warmed by the sun change slowly from green
To a rich golden shade, brighter than the sand that was seen.

A warm shower of rain on a hot summer’s day will show
A better result than the hose for making the flowers grow.
Man-made moisture is not the same as sweet refreshing rain,
You see blossoms lift their heads and see them smile again.

Fruit and vegetables ripening in the gardens and the fields
Always seem better than forced ones, a sweeter taste yields,
Tomatoes from the garden still warm from the summer sun
Is a special taste that my constant admiration long has won.

It is not always possible for nature to do all the hard toil,
But no human hand or tool can compensate or ever foil
The plan where we have to weed and plough and sow,
But it is nature herself that shows us the right way to go.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson October 23, 2003