The hemlocks in the hollow all have toes
That curve and claw down into rocky ground
To keep them anchored when the north wind blows,
And waters rise as heavy rains come down.
But overhead, these trees sway in the gale,
Dancing a jig to nature’s stormy song,
As if in celebration while winds wail,
Of their sure faith no tumult can last long.
Great lesson, that, especially this year
When God knows what strange winds will blow ‘round me:
Grasp on to love, trees say, instead of fear;
But sway, be supple, let adversity
First rev and race and then run out of gas.
Keep faith, my soul, that this as well shall pass.
#
The Geriatric Pilgrim: Traveling the Landscape of Faith and Grief 
This is a beautifully uplifting poem using the glorious strengths of nature. Thank you for sharing this. 🙂
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Beautiful, as always, Rick.
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I hope your next to last line applies to the liar in chief. (Let’s hope he burns out before he and co-President Musk hurt us all.)
Nice job using the hemlock roots and canopy.
joe
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Thnx, my friend. Glad I took the picture of the roots when I did; they’re now covered up with snow.
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