The world awakens and the branches of trees are filled with cherries,
Bright, red, and luscious, they can be seen now,
No longer covered by a blanket of snow that hid them from view
while they lay asleep, waiting for the snow to melt.
Uncovered and glistening in pure sunlight, they speak of the earth’s
graciousness, of her endless giving of life to all who breathe the air
that is her breath, who eat the food that is her body.
The air smells with the scent of melting snow and of sun.
There is laughter in the trees and in the call of birds back and forth
as they let each other know that life is here.
Joy comes softly. It does not take big steps with big feet,
but rather walks in slippers on new mown grass,
barely making an impression until it reaches the place of looking back.
Then, one sees the path that the feet have made,
one recognizes the steps that have been taken.
Everywhere cherries, the red fruit of mother Earth asks to
be shared, hangs in heavy, pendulous bunches from trees that
sigh with relief - relief at finally having given birth.
It is springtime for the soul, and the soul rises to greet the day
that has borne new fruit in silence, nurturing it in secret,
keeping it hidden from view but alive all the same,
Keeping it hidden beneath the visible so that the bright promise
of life’s abundance might finally be felt by all.
Here, now, the sight of cherries in melting snow brings to
ordinary vision a seamless joining of two worlds,
The bursting fruit that fills the senses and arrives in silence,
Cutting through time and space and carrying with it, the presence of eternity.