.

 

 

 

walking out the drive

feeling worn and tired

the world’s weight closes in

steamrolling out the creases

of a dirty, crumpled soul

 

looking down I see

a small black maple tree

saved by grace, miraculously
finally strong enough

to bare the weight

of delicate limbs

and trophied leaves

 

I remember when we planted it

picked a suitable spot

perfect, or so we thought

nurturing and admiring

would surely be enough

 

but we didn't know the soil

misjudged the windy grudges

and the elements of antipathy

finally snapped it

at the roots….

given up for dead

 

we mowed it over several times

never noticing the sprouts arise

from the brownness that disguises

a not yet barren source

 

when we were humbled to our knees

we found her struggling in the breeze

and watered her with patience

collected from the night’s last storm

 

she’s reaching for the sky again

this time with the advantage of

an experienced foundation

only god can do the rest