A Path to Somewhere
Beyond someplace there is a field,
A small boy liked to play.
With bugs to find, and trees to climb,
The boy would stay all day.
In time, a narrow path emerged,
It went from here to there.
With bumps and curves along the way,
And ending up somewhere.
Along the path there was a bush,
That grew in marshy ground.
Its branches heavy, laden down,
With berries big and round.
He paced with curiosity,
Was heedful of its root.
Then popped a berry in his mouth,
To taste the juicy fruit.
And oh that flavour made him smile,
That teeny tiny taste.
The sweetness in the juicy pulp,
Must not be lost in haste.
He laughed at all the berry juice,
That stained his fingertips.
Beneath his nails, and on his teeth,
Around his mouth and lips.
He thought of things that brought delight,
Like spotting silver dimes.
There’s skimming rocks and soggy socks,
His berry-picking times.
He made a promise to himself,
To nurture and protect,
This berry bush on marshy mounds,
Which taught him to reflect.
2
Below the bush there lay some twigs,
The wind had taken down.
He wove them in a little round,
And wore it like a crown.
He wandered often through the path,
To taste the berries, sweet.
He’d cup his hands and fill them up,
Then savour as a treat.
-
The years went by. He’s older now,
He thought he knew his way.
So smart that he would not get lost,
And never go astray.
The widening path developed ruts,
Each time that he passed through.
He filled his pails right to the brim,
Brushed off the bugs and view.
The berries grew back just the same,
But carelessly were picked.
The boy would hardly taste them now,
His fingers barely licked.
He snatched and grabbed with buckets full,
He’d leave the branches bare.
He never thought about a day,
The bush would not be there.
He always had somewhere to go,
The beaten path misused.
The berry bush now overlooked,
Its leaves were often bruised.
Its tender roots at times exposed,
Downtrodden and abused.
He soon forgot about the bush,
Forgotten how to taste.
He lost his way, and how to play,
His crown had been misplaced.
3
An early winter held its grip,
With ice and heavy snow.
The berry bush turned very frail,
Perhaps too weak to grow.
Its damaged limbs were breaking down,
The frost had caused decay.
Recovery would take some care
And love, along the way.
The boy matured into a man,
With children of his own.
They trudged through the neglected path,
To where the bush had grown.
To his dismay the berry bush
Was weakened and so small.
Had tattered leaves and broken limbs—
No berries there at all.
His roots exposed, and now deposed,
His heart began to call.
And at that moment he knew well,
That he had gone astray.
And things may come, and things may go,
That’s life’s impartial way.
Together, they would heal the bush,
They plucked and pruned and weeded.
They tended to its every need,
They nurtured, fed, and seeded.
When spring returned, green leaves appeared,
He saw the bush rebound.
Soon poking through around its base,
An offshoot could be found!
When time allowed, the man returned
To taste the berries, sweet.
4
But only picked the berries that
He needed, or could eat.
He’d cup his hands and fill them up,
Then savour as a treat.
Awakened by his gratitude,
And mem’ries of child play.
Was grateful for the many things
That lead him there that day.
For family, skies, and butterflies,
—A berry bush buffet.
The tended path now guiding him,
To where he’s meant to be.
Another bush was flourishing,
Profoundly he could see,
That things will come, and things will go,
And things will go unseen.
A berry bush unearthed his path,
To Somewhere else
— And in between.
No comments:
Post a Comment