My Tree and Me

My Mulberry Tree in January

 

Today, I was looking out my kitchen window at my mulberry tree. I thought, "There I am. That tree is me." So I wrote a poem. Here it is:

There's my tree,

It's sorta like me.

Lost are its leaves,

Branches bare reach to the sky.

Life it's lived for this season.

Fruit's borne.

It waits, empty,

For new life: leaves, fruit.

 

I am waiting, too,

But my new life will not come

With a new season.

I am old, broken, worn out;

The downhill side of this life.

My new life will come.

After this life passes.

I will be brand new,

Healed and well.

 Come, Lord Jesus!
But in Your time,
Not mine!





Me and My Tree

But I don't just sit and wait. As long as I am here, I do what God brings to my hand. Each day He entrusts me with care for someone. I do what I can. Sometimes I think it is not much, but it is all I can do. And, it's what He has allowed and requested of me. So, I keep on. Me and my tree. Together, we may yet see another season.