Category: poetry
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papaw’s garden // a poem
When I think of my grandfather, I think of his garden. Rows planted each spring in the soil by hand, grown by prayer, never fertilizer. No special equipment nor magic touch. Just faith, simple, trustworthy, true, which brought plentiful harvests, plucked from the ground of his hometown, canned and faithfully distributed to the community. Just faith…
McNeeley Ann 