I watch David in the garden
He is pale and has looked better
Chips in misleading touch-ups
Faint truth, yet
A greater message lies in the cracks of cheap cement
For over his shoulder is a sling
On his mouth a smile
Rather the roses round him wilt and fade
Or should they rise triumphant
Pricking where should not be pricked
The smile remains, as does the sling
Shining from my garden
I watch a hopeful David
Naked but for his purpose
And roses