Imprints of a Gardener

We seek a gardener 
A savage, primal gardener
A strategic, focused gardener 
A steel gardener
 
Who meets the sky’s dice roll 
With a katana that swings through unkempt chaos
 
His touch, a rhythmic alchemy 
Bringing life to bare earth 
Fluent in the dialect of flowers 
Every shrub and tree limb singing 

Lush lawns striped by ritual blades 
With edges never bleeding across 
Stone borders 
Their weekly restoration 

Unseen toil from trenches 
Offering endless lessons 
A living illustration left standing 
For the hush of admiration
 
The canvas of the land shaped into his calling card 
A quiet professional was here

--Fernando R., Adult