by Karen L. Oberst
Farmer scatters seed.
Some falls on the path - too hard
Happy birds can feast.
Farmer scatters seed.
Some falls where stones cover ground.
Roots can't push in, alas.
Farmer scatters seed.
Some falls within harsh cruel thorns.
Choked, the young plants die.
Farmer scatters seed.
Some falls on soil deep and rich.
At harvest time, joy.
Truth sown in heart's soil.
Path, stones, thorns, good - which is it?
Only I can choose.
Hear, absorb the truth
Let it sprout and grow within
At harvest time, joy.