Farmer, till, humus, and still Early morning sunrise, before heat Before rain, before sleet After winter, comes spring All in due time The old hand plants a single seed And from it, will grow a vine of need Water, light, nutrients and life Soon may the vine abide by nature's wild ride And grow into something more All in due time The seeds we plant in people's minds Are not unlike the seeds of vine They grow and prosper, or hurt and fester Like a game of love, or a game of checkers All in due time, to find purpose incline Water your seeds, and soon think Wow, victory really is mine