Garden slow

Watermelon

chillis

My garden has slowly made it´s way through the soil.
Rising to present itself to the world. My garden stable, my patch, my plot, my plantation.
Quiet they grow, quiet and clean.
My slow afternoon parades them.
They need not my useless words, one leaf, my thanks.
As my hands give birth to this surface, this mattress.
An angel in the watering can, a wizard underground.
The only thing with life that doesn´t bring me down.
The sunrises for you, my garden is my faith and my faith keeps growing in it.