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| Ran Hua |
The elm tree
The elm tree’s limbs droop
in curved and uneven clumps.
I see the tree and the branches
from my bay window.
The tree is healthy, grass green
leaves hanging from strong tan
and chocolate brown limbs
with peeling gray rectangles
of bark, reflecting life
and death simultaneously.
The limbs appear burdened.
Heat has been excessive, but
several days of rain have brought
relief. I think the burden I
perceive resides within me.
Nature, in the form of this
elm tree is there to remind
me of the presence of God.
As is the unwavering desire of my
dog to be with me at all times,
especially when I am sad, leaving me
if I swear at the world, only to
check back on me minutes later
to make sure I am okay.
I struggle with sad days when
dreams are a struggle or
health prevents me from
finding some semblance of
normal. Anger consumes
me before the rational mind
tells me to stop, to open my eyes.
Plans not seen do not mean plans not made.
Yet, there are days, I wonder if I am
strong enough to endure the journey.
And then my dog comes to me, wags her tail,
letting me know she is there. Will always
be there. Others say the same thing in silence
or with acts of kindness.
This time, the pendulous nature of a healthy elm tree
prompted me to open my eyes. I believe nature
whispers to God daily, and together they plan simple
exhibits of life, reminding those with a desire to sleep, to awaken. © John Doriot
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| John Doriot |
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