Fruit from the Vine

Fruit from the Vine

The work of unseen hands.
The ‘planter’ prepared the soils.
Seeds laid in the rich, brown
mud…earth’s womb.

Labor pains ‘cracked’ the ground.
Broken, a vine spreads itself.

Taking in the summer’s heat
—moisture fed the budding leaves
—gentle rains caressed the fruit
     being born.

The Gardener watched, waited
and tended…a hoe of prayers
digging, breaking up, making way
for what was to come.

Picked, in bunches,
—succulent circles of pleasure
—juices dripping with the finest
    vintage not yet bottled.

The Gardener tastes
but, before doing so
—the fruit lifted
—thanks offered.

The work of an Unknown Hand.
What a Blessing.

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