Glittering ghost of gardens past,
you contain grain, a hope that will last;
though you are crippled, a Tiny Tim breed,
when Scrooge-Winter passes, you’ll scatter good seed.
As leaves of life are pages turned
each sunrise and each setting eve,
so Time requires accounting earned
of heart, and what heart has achieved;
what ink was etched in living light
upon those souls within arm’s reach;
what words with honey sweetened plight,
or actions wrote with keener speech?
What one thing can you do this day to make the world around you a better place? We need to stand together against evil, or peace on earth will remain a distant dream…