Been Searchin' Poem by Irene Mitchell

To find a footing is to construct
a plan, one that reverberates
beyond the garden grid.

Until then, how are the intervals filled
between flower and fruit?

Sun's singeing impact, rain's moody
dispersal, stars brandishing their tidy glory,
ply their influence
for any one of us just living the hours.

True to the nature of the game
and worth all the universe,
we gain composure,
men of flesh and fiber cooling our daily fever,
not expecting never to die,
only to manage what we've put by.