With Faith the Size of Mustard Seed
In rich loam with fertile hope
I grow a rooted cutting of faith.
It is planted in a large terra cotta
pot on the patio.
In the night seeds of doubt
blow in, germinate unseen.
Its rootlets form, steal nutrients
and sprout in daylight
leaves of discontent.
Daily, diligently I am reminded to tend
my small mustard faith;
weed carefully, water as necessary,
rotate the pot into the light of the sun.
And I come to sit on the patio
in its refreshing afternoon shade.
I rub its spice into my day’s lunch:
delicate, delightful the flavor of its fruits.
I offer crumbs from my table to birds
nesting there in its spreading branches.
c.Darlene Moore Berg