When I dig into the good earth,
I feel something I can’t explain,
The soil beneath my working hands,
The sun, the seed, the gentle rain.
And somehow, as I turn the ground,
My thoughts rise higher than the sod;
For all this goodness speaks to me
Of the goodness of our God.
My hands are working in the earth,
But my heart is turned above,
For in the garden, I can feel
The fingerprints of Love.
Smith Shine Poetry 