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

they rise 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 journey through the leaves,

telling us what kind of

summer it’s been.

Of all the faces

none do I recall

as vivid

as when faith took root

and hope appeared

when love formed

in a moment’s time

when eternity’s seed split open

and gave birth

to something beautiful

in its time.

And time is His, not mine

every ginkgo leaf that falls

is remembered by the limb upon which it hung.

If He who makes sap run every 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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