Coral colored buds on curlicue type clutching outgrowth

Fuzzy fronds dripping off branches.

Pecans trying, wanting to grow and then fall to the ground to be gathered again.

Again, after all.

I’d imagined the ease in which its branches may break with the grab of an intentional hand.

The high grass cradling so many already,

I’d imagined the sound sharp and quick as the limb was grabbed hold of and snapped to be discarded to the side.

The tree I’d begun to love

I’d decided in error might have nary a bloom seeing its final season.

We walked together, worn from physical and mental woe of a very long day.

We walked anyway as the warm whisper of the air called come, come and see

and then we paused to worship there, a quiet place loving and needing all the more quiet and deciding we should

Believe.

Believe in what might surprise us

And be.