I am god.
I know this because I make it rain.
I decide when it does, how much it should.
I plant that which I water,
I bounce along proclaiming in a sing song voice:
“Here an oak tree, There a pine.
Here an artichoke, There a vine.”
I am god.
I am god.
I know this because I protect the fruits of my labor from mine enemies.
With a vengeance I curse them to a devastating eternity,
waging constant war with their daily efforts
to decimate all that I labor to sustain.
I also decide just how much sun shines.
I am god.
I am god.
I know because I command all that is around me,
Guiding and directing, moving and creating,
Observing, defending, and nurturing –
All the while dispensing my energy in order that my creation thrives.
I am god.
I am god.
I know because I drag my hose out every evening to water.
A long green eel that slithers along after me as I
Lovingly delve out a sparkling stream to each of my darlings
This and that plant or flower
Placed with wild abandon as I flit
Around judiciously constructing my habitat.
“tra-la-la….I am god.”
I am god.
I know this because snails and I are mortal enemies.
I sling them over the fence, one at a time,
To die a slow, dry, hot death.
It’s either them or my basil.
I also make sure that my tomatoes get full sun,
And the begonias get shade.
I am god.
I am god.
I know this because I trim and train,
Prune and mulch, caress and love,
Diffusing myself into my own little corner of creation.
I am a gardener.
I am god.
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