By: Timotheus Posted on: November 09, 2005
The full moon shines upon Her tranquil head
And casts its light down on the garden fair.
A grove of willows crowns a grassy bed,
Their supple branches whisper in the air.
To east and west carnation clusters grow.
A winding mist drifts o'er a pond, and then
A calmness permeates the air, and so
The scent of flow'rs and herbs is carried in.
A fountain, broad and elegant, bubbles near,
While silv'ry fish dart round about in schools
And lotus blossoms float among the cheer
Of emerald duckweed in the crystal pool.
The garden of the Matron is our place
For meditating on our Mother's grace.