Guide

old hands

Weathered hands
mapped by lines of experience
gently pick up a shrivelled, dry seed.
Tan, calloused skin dwarfs the grain.

Slow, deliberate movement
rolls the seed between perceptive
thumb and fingers.
Rich, black dirt
tenderly accepts the buried offering.

Wise blue eyes observe patiently
from a distance.

Delicate green sprigs
burst through soft loam.
Pale and fragile new growth erupts
disoriented
by new surroundings.

Sunlight sends warm caresses.
Strength flows through its golden glow.
With inspired confidence the plant
deliberately stretches for the light.

When contact is made with a solid wall on the left,
new shoots and blossoms are sent to the right.

A vision of rich shades grows.
Thick, green leafy vines.
White and pink petals.
A triumphant shock of compressed energy
strives toward a radiant sky.

Petals soon fall.
Vines thicken, become brittle.
Naked seeds stand exposed on stems.

Knowledgeable hands pluck them
as they dry and shrivel.
New growth contained within their tiny husks
will not be forgotten.
They, too, will push through the soil
refreshed
recharged
jubilant.

Tree

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I see a tree
It won’t leave my mind
What stories are hidden in its branches?
What seeds of creativity are waiting to fall
upon the world in a shower of imagination and playfulness?

If I open the door
will I descend into Alice’s world?
Will the white rabbit and mad hatter await me?
Arrows and names point in all directions
infinite possibility awaits the believer

The tree in inviting
its whimsical appearance
elicits smiles
sparks the mind to embark
on a journey of chance

There are no right or wrong ways
the path is not straight or narrow
Looking upon the tree
one’s eye is directed upward
Spirit soars
Engage in the enchantment