Mother's Promise
Early morning light flickers brilliant red, yellow and orange off the pond
The hunters have worn a quite path under their feet as they wind through my brothers and sisters in a morning pursuit
I stand, mostly stripped of cover as the sun arcs overhead
Late afternoon squirrels scramble across mother's floor; decaying life that gives off a sound only she can produce
Sun sets and the smell of wood fires and hot cocoa warm my weakened senses
A crisp wind sways the mast; the last dying breath breaks free from my branch and falls asunder
We shall meet again, as I sleep now, wrapped in a white coat to nurture me through a darkened time
Until the stirring of youth and exuberence; of a young daisy, pulled from a dormant floor by a beam of warmth
Taking its first breath from natures renewal of life
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Tim Wallace