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To the garden we wander, the soil moist with dew. We come this spring with open hearts renewed. All heartaches forgiven, all winter's travails absolved. Spring becomes for us a channel from which to draw new strength. We come to the garden with a firm footing. For we have come to plant our seeds. Our very earthly trust lies in our hands. In each seed we plant. With all the conviction our spirits can hold. We know these seeds will sprout. I dig a furrow straight and long. The strength of the sun, beating down on warm shoulders. Warm sun give us strength. She plants the seeds, one by one. Carefully, steadily. For she is planting hope. She did not learn to hope from me, or learn to trust from a seed. This faith she holds comes naturally. A faith deep and pure. Our duty only being to hold this faith. Knowing our faith will be rewarded. The body, it does wander, to and from the garden. The heart strings stay attached. Sun gives way to moon. Moon gives way to sun. Seeds turn to sprouts. Sprouts to flower and fruit. To and from the garden. Our feet move between two worlds. All the while, our bodies have taken root. Our spirit feels at ease.