Beneath the Old Cherry Tree
Upon old homestead high atop the hill,
life mixed with soil -- scattered 'round --
beneath the old cherry tree,
Marking time with white-grey ash
she sees the changing seasons
just as every year before.
Beneath the old cherry tree
spread among the wildflowers
her nurturing influence lives on.
Upon the hill
I sit, beneath the old cherry tree
sensing grandma's presence here abides.
Knowing one day, I too will be scattered
upon this farmland
beneath the old cherry tree, high atop the hill.
An overgrown thicket
shelters a mother and her young
as spring rains drench the world
This foggy morn spent
wandering in forest dense and earthy
eases my troubled mind. Though
cold and damp seep into the forest floor,
I linger here for clarity.
Over her brood, she hovers;
a nest lined in fur
with kits nestled close. The doe
holds out against the rain.
As I happen by her little
huddle, I catch a glimpse
knowing full well she sees.
Though no threat I pose, she tenses
ready to dart and flee; I turn away
rerouting my journey home.
I'll not cause you stir
on such a day as this; my solace
found among the trees and wild undergrowth.
To the business of keeping warm, I leave you in peace
having sought and found mine within your home.
Vicki Gabow is a high school teacher by day and a storyteller, poet, and painter by night. In her spare time, she enjoys communing with nature, bird watching, crocheting, and making a glorious mess in her studio. She lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania with her husband, Dan and two cats, Zoey and Doodle.