I
love how the dogwood
bends~
following
its own lead
turning
to the whispers
of
the laurel, oak and ivy
as
they mingle in the woods.
Outside
my window
a
great white lady
readies
herself to bloom
sap
rising
ripening
her tight buds ~
the
warm spring sun
seducing
her to burst forth
in
lacy splendor.
Christ's
blossoms,
cross
shaped petals
tinged
as though with sacred blood
they
say ~
and
in each center
there
his crown.
I
do not think
sweet
Jesus hung
upon
a dogwood
yet
we yearn for mystic symbols
connections
~
wherever
they might be
organic
matter
to
fertilize our faith.
Even
in a tree ~ poor tree ~
just
wanting to twist and turn
and
share its beauty
with
the sun
while
all it asks of us
is
the deep breath ~
the
aah!
and
silent yes
acknowledging
its gift
so
simple ~ so magnificent.
Joanne Cucinello ©2008
