The ice storm came in January
And gave her the face of a weeper.
Weighed down, nearly to the ground,
We knew that her roots grew deeper.
However, she was completely covered with
Ice, and her trunk was split at ground level.
We questioned if she would even survive.
But she soon convinced us that she was here
To stay, even when ice stood in her way. She
Knew that God was on the inside, and she was
Ready to produce healthy fruit and thrive.
In short order, by late Feburary, she spoke
With the resounding voice of new spring life.
Her pink blossoms said, "Hello, I'm alive and well. Peaches will be arriving by mid-July".
Oh how beautiful,
Is this little peach tree,
With my wondering eyes,
I really do see,
Two little peaches,
So delightful,
So Plump,
Waiting to be picked,
By little old me.
My favorite fruit is the peach
I pick one from the tree
and pick out more within reach
eating them with glee
The emerald and still evening
lures the crescent moon rising,
to make a small peach tree shine
as if it were already daytime;
it even invites the brutal wind
to lash it so that its flowers
would lose their pretty petals...
then one of them starts to descend,
others sadly follow behind to resemble Autumn leaves...
who has sympathy for a small peach tree which grieves?
The enchanted, star-draped sky
watches the white petals fall off the small peach tree
into the lake that earlier reflected its flowery image;
isn't it enraged by the wind's ravage?
Its anger can last until the deep shadows wane and die:
that's when the light will restore harmony.
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Gail Angel Doyle's contest,
" Petals In The Wind "
on 1/ 15/ 2012
Glossy glow velvet
Sunripe peach tree high up
Nectar beckons now
Reach up high to grab the light
Glossy glow of peaches grow
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