POET ART
As an artist views his subject
A poet loves to see
A three-dimension world built up
Of words in harmony
Take a fruit tree in an orchard
Heavy fruit on branches grow
Baskets full of fruit are picked
From branches bending low
Comes the pruner in the winter
Views his subject knows his trade
Snips and prunes that bent old tree
Until a resurrection’s made
The tree looks t’ward the springtime
When its buds burst forth with life
Woos the birds and bees and insects
Like a man who seeks a wife
As a father loves his children
So the gardener tends his trees
Watching out for any problems
That might indicate disease
Like the child who needs a doctor
A tree might need some spray
Carefully managed by the gardener
But it’s needed anyway
And just as parents glow within
When a child meets some goal
The tree that yields the finest fruit
Enwraps the gardener’s soul
Our Lord is like the gardener
Watching over man
Calling him correcting him
Implementing His great plan
His still small voice can touch
E’en the hardness of our heart
And prune our lives that fruitfulness
Might be ours to impart
Copyright Graham Byrne
