Greenhouse Worker - Poem

National Catholic Reporter, April 27, 2001 by Mary Ann Meade

   You did not press a blossom,
   Keep it in the workbook
   For years and years. No.
   You mean you let the blossom out.
   Yes. I opened the skylight.

   You did not press a blossom.
   No. Did you actually bend down,
   Comfort a blossom. Yes.
   I moved discretely
   Through the scent.

   I felt the color bursting,
   All my fears blown free,
   My soul drifting north
   As the last pasture rose.
   Lord, sweet Lord, I saw

   A day of creation,
   The skylight of the earth opening,
   The cherubim wild
   With the excitement
   Of resurrection, spring.

--Mary Ann Meade Conshohoken, Pa.

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