Little tree, I do meet perchance, strolling on a summer day. Your fruit so plentiful, branches loaded, you are a picture of abundance.
But what of these limbs when winter bare? Stark and colorless, no billowing form to shade this ground. Harvest complete, or so it seems.
Ice crystals then your charm against white covered earth. With pride you stand, one more season still.
Thawed and sunned, your buds reappear, like days numbered at the end of life, giving hope.
Sun rises on your wearied, yet still pulsing heart, and the air so fresh, for one more day will test
Wisdom of the vine, you remind. As long as connected, we must keep bearing
fruit ’til harvest.
“Wisdom of the vine, you remind. As long as connected, we must keep bearing
fruit ’til harvest.”
Words of wisdom wrapped up in poetry with grand photography for a bow.
You do give your visitors the best gifts!
Dear Sarah, Your words are touched with tenderness that give me strength. How do you do that? What a gift you are. Love, Deb
Simply beautiful… i love the way you use the line break at the end to emphasize and deliver with power your “punchline”… “fruit ‘til harvest”. Your poetic rhythm must stem from your gift of music and dance; after all, your words skip across the page/screen. Love this one especially, dearest Deb!! ❤️❤️
Lynn, thanks for “dancing” with me. Love you❤️
There is no hope like the hope of spring, even after the longest, coldest winter. Of course, it’s the waiting and bearing the snow that’s hard. Thanks for this reminder to hope. That we will bear fruit is a promise!
Thank you, Eric for reading and taking the time to offer feedback. It means a lot. I’m so glad you found it encouraging! Deb