Healed by the Tree

Yesterday we saw a solitary hiker with thin, long, gray hair,

leaning with his right palm against the trunk of a mossy old maple,

and the maple pushing back, ever so gently, to the quiet music

of the stream below. Now, you and I both know, how he was

and wasn’t there, and how he is and always will be;

that if by gracious chance we pass that way

again, it will be our turn to be healed

by the tree, and that he,

and she, will see.

[ 1842 ]

Categories: Sour Honey

William Michaelian