I received a delightful gift yesterday delivered by three youth from the local Post-Adjudication Unit. These kids, on probation for offenses, are in a residential facility I help run with the other local judges. They had grown vegetables and written a poem which they presented to me. Their poem reads:
Honorable Judge Rollins
We tilled, hoed, raked, and dropped the seeds.We knelt down for hours, just to pull the neverending weeds.
Our hands were raw and blistered As we continuously dug. We scratched to fight off all the bugs.
We sang, talked, and caressed all of our plants we even got out there and did a little rain dance.
For all the time we spent underneath the sky thats blue Here's a little sample of the things that we grew.
From the Kids in Post Aug. "2005"
My response to them was also in verse:
For the Kids in Post, August, 2005 From Judge Rollins
If a seed falls to ground where it lands, left to chance, then a plant might be found, then a bloom could advance.
Chances are it will not, most such seeds never root. Without care, sad’s the lot of the could-have-been shoot.
Plant a seed, watch it grow, pull the weeds, give it room. Quench its thirst nice and slow so one day it may bloom.
Like a seed, so a child needs a hand’s tender care. Left to chance, to grow wild, life may seem tough to bear.
If it hurts when the weeds are pulled up, twigs are pruned, know we care for your needs, that your lives be well tuned.
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