I like to imagine God
High up there someplace
we cannot see.

He's got a farmer's hat on
with a big floppy brim
to protect him from the sun.

Out in the fields, which he tends by hand,
there are millions and billions
of little seedlings, growing slowly.

He always has his bucket with him
because you never know when one of the seedlings
is going to need a sip.

It's such a magic occurrence
when a seedling gets a sip;
really more like a tiny droplet, so small is it.

God pulls out the ladle with exactly the right droplet
for the seedling about to sip...
just that one tiny little amount, for just that seedling.

Then, just as the seedling receives it,
the seedling is gone from God's field, at least for now,
and, somewhere on our little hairy ball of dirt and water

a baby is swaddled and held for the first time by a weary mother.

04/18/2008

Author's Note: I thought of the phrase, "bucket of souls" in the shower. Then, the next day, the same phrase came into my head on the drive to work. Later that day, I sat down and got out of the way so the rest of the story could be recorded for others to read.

Posted on 05/20/2008
Copyright © 2024 Rick Hamrick