Trees

Evening view from our deck, Pacific Northwest

Enya remembers trees
and I would rather, too.
Remember, that is--
summer trees--lush and green,
flower draped, glistening color and sunlight.
Full of life, saturated with purpose,
provision--
giving shelter and shade,
returning live breaths to the atmosphere they inhabit,
covered head to toe
cloaked in a wardrobe of wonder,
branches raised in praise.




But alas, the truth is--
bare branches framed against the sky paint a stronger, more sure picture.
Their form and structure
revealed only by what isn't there...

no leaves
no life
no lush-ness.
Just barren bones holding up the air--
a perch for birds perhaps
or the perfect place to hang a swing.
Solitary strength
a support for others,
a trunk for clinging to,
leaning against in the fiercest storms.

Strike that.
Autumn trees are best,
showing me what's needful there
to grow on, build on, add to when the summer comes...

                                   












                      Solomon Episcopal Retreat Center
                     Rachel Zoe DuPlessis. Used by Permission

~~~~~~~~~~~

This poem is shared with Tweetspeak Poetry for their June theme: Trees

and with dVerse Pub for Open Link Night #50  Join us!

Spring reign

 

The warm spring rain persisted

Like the need for prayer, insisted I arise.

A call to care, regardless of the hour,

When time knows no limits,

And love requires me to listen!

Whose heart’s cry do I hear?

My own—involved, consumed?

Aware of the power, if I ask, for

The Father’s hand to reach down

And touch—bring healing, redeem, make new.

Whose heart do I hear?  The Father’s—

Broken, broken…

Splintered and crying over lost lives,

The enemy’s stealth and deception,

Muddling perception, leaving blind the sightful.

Whose heart would I hear?

His own—truthful, honest, facing the light

That reveals the pain, not concealing,

But paying the cost for a change.

Deciding that pretense makes no sense

When death brings the ultimate perspective.

How I pray that he would see the Father’s heart,

Broken open for him.

See the arms that welcome the wounded,

turn towards the light—

the light that brings comfort,

restoration, warmth.

The warmth and depth of His love,

love that sheds for him falling tears

like the persistent, quiet Spring rain

outside my door…

c Jody Lee Collins  2012

Sharing with the amazing folks in poetry land for Open Link night at dVerse pub.  Join us!