The seedling thirsts until quenched
by soothing daily morning dew.
Drawing from refreshing wells.
Not so much as to be drenched,
but drawn as to renew.

Quenching water flows and swells,
until the stems and leaves are full.
Until secreted through each pore.
It's droplets fall to form a pool,
to seep toward life giving wells.

A cycle of fulfilling need,
balanced by the Hand of God.
Intertwined in such a way,
to show more than a sprouting seed
growing in the fertile sod.

The heart of man, a seedling too,
in need of some refreshing drink,
seeks to bring the water in,
but seeking other means to do
as good, or so he'd like to think.

In vane he lifts his roots and moves,
to what he thinks is better soil.
He hopes to find a nice abode,
in pleasant cultivated grooves,
not knowing it will soon erode.

Perhaps one day will come when man,
becomes as smart as little seeds,
who labor not, nor do they toil.
But look to God to fill their needs.

But if the seedlings in the land,
from God above received a voice.
that they might make decisions too,
whether to grow in dirt or sand.
I wonder what would be their choice.

What kind of drink would they demand,
or what food would they want to eat?
It sounds ridiculous to ask.
But still, if they could take a stand,
what would come of seeds and man?
For if the seeds could choose as we,
how scarce would be a single tree?