Writing in the Garden

My grandmother was an avid writer, especially in her later years. Often, when the weather permitted, she wrote while sitting in her garden. But even when she couldn't do that, she wrote about gardening. Here is a poem written in May of 1992:

Who shall inquire of the season,

Or question the wind where it blows?

We blossom and ask no reason

The Lord of the Garden knows.

We are the roadside flowers,

Straying from garden grounds,

Love of idle hours,

Breakers of ordered bounds.