God has a way of making flowers grow.
He is both daring and direct about it.
If you know half the flowers that I know,
You do not doubt it.
He chooses some gray rock, austere and high,
For garden-plot, trafficks with sun and weather;
Then lifts an Indian paintbrush to the sky,
Half flame, half feather.
In desert places it is quite the same;
He delves at petal-plans, divinely, surely.
Until a bud too shy to have a name
He dares to sow the waste, to plow the rock.
Though Eden knew His beauty and His power,
He could not plant it in a yucca stalk,
A cactus flower.
—Sister Madeleva, "In Desert Places"