There are green things growing

In the garden of my mind -

But not the leaf and color,

Nor the flower I thought to find.

Straight-stemmed and dutiful,

Meeting rain in rows,

The cool blue blossoms lift,

And I expected those.

Now in one corner

The ground goes bare,

And I have quite forgotten

What I planted there.

But early in the morning

Where nothing ever grew,

The dark earth is broken

By green leaves thrusting through.

What seed found my garden

I do not know -

But tree, vine, or flower,

I'll watch, and let it grow.