I'm standing in my garden
     The evening sun on my left,
     Smiling and sprinkling.

     First you exclaim of the beauty before you.
     You take a moment
     And let the sight and smell delight your soul
     And touch you.

     Recovering,
     You ask why I labor thus.
     You've seen the hours I've spent
     Tending and caring…
     The tedious time,
     Day after day.

     The truth admits admiration,
     For the results are pleasing.
     But what of the time that is lost
     Playing slave to a pretty picture?
     A picture for others to see.
     I could be reading,
     Improving my mind.

     As I pluck an exhausted leaf
     And stroke a fresh bud
     I tingle inside.
     That tingle is absorbed into the plants
     Who whisper it to each other,
     Conspiring,
     And you feel it.
     Somewhere in your soul it settles
     And you smile.

     Later, as you walk down the street,
     You meet John.
     You're smiling.
     A gentle ripple pulsates the air
     And John is smiling.
     John brings the smile to Jane
     Who takes it to Joe
     Who gives it to Penelope.
     If this chain could never be broken
     What joy the world could spread!

     You ask me why I labor thus?
     Smile, friend.