© 2018 Vernon Miles Kerr
Can a crocus bloom in desert’s searing sand;
Or Altruism spring from our primate-surly band?
Could Love, that _agape _of old, that outward-flowing care
For others, arise from merely wishing it so?
Or was it a gift, bestowed by the loving hands,
Of some gardener, long ago;
A seed, planted in unlikely soil,
So that when it flourished
It would confound–