.:A Mustard Seed:.
Don’t mind the little seed,
That is merely the width and height,
Of a pea,
That is growing,
Little by little.
Don’t mind the little sprout,
Whose shoot is little bigger and a little skinnier,
Than your pinky,
That is still growing,
Little by little.
Don’t mind the little seedling,
That has only the size and weight,
Of a small piccolo flue,
That yet, grows,
Little by little.
But do mind the grown mustard tree,
Whose branches stretch farther and farther,
Reaching past giant,
And hurtling past enormity,
That has grown,
Little by little.
