Stunted and blunt,
Some boughs of a tree,
Poor limbs pruned till ends reveal scars,
Sealed for protection,
Sad cry from full-blown,
Stalwart, tho’ hindered, life marred.
Tapering branches,
Each new bud, every flower,
Burgeoning sap coursing through,
Roots fit to match, mirrored,
Hidden beneath,
Supple with strength to endure.
Wizened above
But with shoots still to bloom,
Shelter and shade oft provides,
Network supporting,
Sprouting, spreading and sporing,
Encompassing, lineage abides.
Powerfully evocative~
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Thank you, Cindy.x
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Just beautiful!
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Thank you, Nicodemas. 🙂
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We keep going despite (or perhaps because of) the knocks. I guess the trick is to always wonder about might be waiting if we stretch a bit further. Nice metaphor.
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Hardy perennials, Chris. No other way. Roots down, limbs to the sky and hope no one passes with a chainsaw! 😉
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Tee hee!
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A vivid metaphor for our lives, Anne-Marie. Somehow we have to remain strong but supple. Great images!
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Thanks, Beth. The word stunted was fixed in my head after a comment I read elsewhere and this kind of grew from that. 🙂
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