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Mother's Promise



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


__________________________________________


Tim Wallace


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