Fertile ground

My life was a fertile ground
but bare.
So I prayed for what was needed –
the fruits and the flowers –
and every prayer I made
planted a seed.

What I could not know
is how each plant must grow:
some put out thorns
before blossoms;
some are only gnarled wood
until the first fruit appears.

Now I look around
at the crazy jungle of my life
thinking each leaf,
each thorny branch,
is a part of something more.