Like a tree in winter.
Life hesitant to be drawn out.
No foliage. No buds or flowers.
Just a tall stump of branches.
Standing. Waiting.
Birds twitter branch to branch.
Squirrels huddle deep in their nests.
And the tree still stands,
Waiting for a call for life again.
The winds beat.
Blizzards rage.
A branch or two may be taken away.
Yet the tree still stands.
A slumbering giant no one turns an eye to.
No one looks upon it.
Everyone looks past it.
See through the branches to what couldn’t be seen before.
A holy sunrise.
A trickling creek.
A home hidden among the woods.
Eyes look beyond.
And the tree still stands, hoping.
Hoping the holy sunrise would grace it with light.
Hoping the trickling creek would nourish it with water.
Hoping the home would appreciate the shelter it provides.
A tree in winter. Often overlooked.
Is a symbol of enduring waiting.
Waiting for spring and hope to be able to fully bloom again.
nikki diekemper 