Love like a Tree


Dear Granny Apple,

Remember when

Little hands and feet

Stretched up

tickling as they climbed

Soft bark

loving little arms

Reached around

Trusting a sound waistline

Your gentle hands

Drew small ones in

With Matriarchal love and wonder
You offered up a rosy canopy

Of possibilities unending

A Sun kissed  tree of Life

and by her fruit they knew

and loved her

Magnetic light

I felt it from my crow nest lookout

She filled my Tractor bucket

I ate the soft sweet autumn envy

like living bread and loved it

And In her hands Life was

the perfect Apple

I never really thought she’d leave

or that I would be missing her

Or grieve as I have done

Her presence rooted beautifully

In giving

I followed so to listen

to learn the art and craft

Of Godly living for the daft

I wore a long sleeved work shirt

So as to spare the hurt and burn
but like a migrant worker

I ached within,

the wretched Apple dander

did me in

It Blurred my vision

but I kept on

between the leaves and branches

I did the scratchy work

And helped  to grow the children

As she was praying wholey

over them

How has this blessed Gift,

This Calendar now lost its leaves

and binding?

Displaced Its drugstore luster

for Sunday papers tossed

to bluster?

Some children run a race

of thankless gridlock

Of spinning clocks

Of enmity

Of dumb consumption

While others skip on happily

All this is cause enough to stay

and try to remedy with kindness

The days are getting short
Yet longer in the longing

from Bottled up imagining

another Monday setting flats

and tightening rings for boiling

In doing this and that

In living out a dull routine

For what?  For love?

Yes. Most days this-of course

Some days…I just don’t know.

It’s what we do.  We keep on.

Minding Ps and Qs

teaching A B Cs

for reading World news

Feeling a career pulse

As savings rise and fall

Listening for breath sounds

Giving smiles of hope to all

til work is sealed

Received and named complete.

Then we are free to dream

the blessed Summer sleep.

Another year has come and soon will go

Inside I’m moth and rust

but hang the outward smile for show

A shame. So much I could and

must before I’m weak and

Gone too

Outside the flowers and birds are

Singing “All is well” and so I hum.

What would it be to Preen

the wings of Spring that

Nature does so Naturally?

They toil not today, nor any day

Except to eat and sing and fly on

Without  the gravity we bear

They are provided for

As we once were and are

If  we will but believe and live.

I miss the bliss of those days

Of hide and seek in Grandma’s yard and apron strings

Of faith and soulful prayer

We ran and played for hours there

I wish that she had stayed

to share more of her powers

Sometimes with angel voices

I hear a swelling shower

and think it might be her

Mixed with the children’s


A swell of Love and Mercy

Of happily ever after

A trill of wind chimes calls me

Someday I’ll hear

Her clamor

In undertones of flowers

soft and clear

Within the singing apple tree

I’ll pull her close

to share the story she began

But will not end with me

About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
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