Having Risen

Unnumbered

shades of green

greet me in my garden.

He who planted Eden

chose them one by one,

including some only bees can see.

I will know His hands

(if I should see them),

not just from the wounds,

but from the callous places.

Who sends the rain and seeds,

and leaf and tree,

sends me.

Mary was right the first time, too,

that morning

having arrived at the open tomb.

He is The Gardener.