Here Stands a Tree: Spring

Fingers stretched and reaching.

Grasping at life

wishing for the sky.

Arms gnarled and many.

Helpful for the weary traveler

wishing for shade.

Feet underground and twisted.

Here since the beginning 

wishing for April's rain.

Gates                                                 flung open,

                       Gushing. . .

                              Flowing. . .

                      Pouring. . .

               Thousands of drops

                       hitting the ground; 

                A symphony of rebirth

           and elation.

                                   Winds blow,

                The arms move

The fingers quake.

Our traveler stirs

though not disturbed;

Despair washed away,

Hope remains,

nothing more.

Hope. . .

J

Artist: Bruno Patriarca