If I Had To Choose, I Would Choose The Church Of My Garden

I walk barefoot on the old concrete path
And contemplate the innate rhythms  
Of the wildflowers with their purple petals
And insistent manner which says "I'm still here".  
 
Along the way, I will take communion
With the sweet strawberries--
Their red color a symbol of the willing sacrifice
Of my time and devotion
 
Kneeling , I pray to the rain gods
To dance gently on the dirt
And help the struggling sunflowers to open
And reach reverently for the heavens
 
Digging deep for the weeds,  
I toss aside their flawed beauty
To make way for the more useful vegetables
Which I will prepare for the dinner sacrifice  
 
🌞