when seeds split open

by Elizabeth DeBarros

Ginkgo tree                                                        Photo courtesy of Blandy Experimental Farm

 

How fleeting are the years

they pass under the mistletoe

like steam

rising off the lake

— or was it just a pond?

The ripples,

there are so many now.

Some snows we waited for

never came 

Burning sands underfoot,

our lot.

Fall is a jaunt through the leaves,

telling us what kind of 

summer it’s been.

Of all the faces

none do I recall

so vivid

as when faith took root

and hope appeared

when love formed

in a moment’s time

and eternity’s seed split open

giving birth

to something beautiful.

And time is His, not mine

every ginkgo leaf that falls

is golden,

remembered by the limb

upon which it hung.

If sap then runs in spring

and the redbuds

a little fuller,

Can He not whistle in the wind

and work a wonder for you?

Can He not work a wonder for you?

©2013 Elizabeth DeBarros

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