My Garden Becomes

It is time to gather my stones.
Winter winds and small furry mammals
have scattered them around my garden
among the ferns, brown but showing hints of green
as they push the fallen stones aside,
to fulfill their destiny, to live as they were meant to live, if only for those few warm months
we call summer.

My garden is full of these stones, 
bits of color scattered here and there,
some buried in the dirt, some in weeds.
Most weren't born here,
these stones that are part of my garden.
They come from all over -
from family and friends, 
from my hands and from God's
serendipitously found
or purposefully sought.
I find them, 
place and arrange - rearrange.

Each spring my garden slowly returns.
Plants, like stones are found or appear.
I look . . . I see.  
Shape and colors come together
pleasing my senses
and I hope yours.