Part Two- Clyde; The Gardener
I know a Master Gardener whose hand was to the plow.
He planted for tomorrow and he planted for right now.
In love for the land he would labor, he would struggle, he would toil.
It was the sweat of his brow that watered the seed within the soil.
The rains would come, the sun would shine; good things began to grow…
Then he waited patiently. His harvest began to show.
He had flowers for their beauty, trees for bountiful fruit:
his seeds were sown in season, silently following suit.
As time went by, it is I, who reaped what he had carefully sown.
Humbly now I thank him, for the seeds, and for the love he made known.
Clyde Eugene Tisdale 1913-2005
jth 06/1997