A tenderness of opposites

Wandering through your garden,
I wonder anew at the blessings you provide --
not just the colors,
or the fruits;
not just the benches to sit on
or the statues to inspire;
not just the strawberry,
or the snow pea;
the rhubarb and the corn...

You seem to have thought of everything,
so that which falls
remains to nourish
whatever's coming next...
And by so doing, you inspire every plant,
so even the blossoms begin to care for one another,
the young ones tenderly cradling the old
as, once spent,
they drift slowly to the grass below,
never minding
that they are different species,
or different colors.

"Look!" says the bright young poppy.
"See how your rich purple glows in my arms,
even as you fall!
Rest a while, won't you,
So the others might be warmed by our opposition!"