Winter Trees

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A path of pain and homelessness
in search of home,
a path out of chaos and violence
in search of peace,
led me through the door
of a coffeehouse full of gentle people
in 1980 Kelowna.

They tended my roots
until my petals unfurled.
They taught me how to thrive
in the joy of being alive.

That path led me onward
to the sea,
and the relief of my soul
at being at home among the wild.
I go now to the forest-breathing-peace
when my heart needs soothing.
On the riverbank, under the tall cedars,
all cares fall away, and I breathe in beauty,
balm and comfort, abandon sorrow,
allow the ancient beings to restore
my faith in our tomorrow.

The other night, driving icy roads in fear,
I suddenly saw the ghostly trees
arching over the road,
branches laden thickly with snow,
and shimmering with an unearthly light.
As attentive as angelic beings,
protective presences,
hovering over us in prayer,
they showed me heavenly beauty
my heart holds fast,
and saw us safely past.


for Elizabeth Crawford's Creativity Challenge: Path and Relief. The other night, the small bus was driving through very treacherous conditions. We were all silent and praying. I suddenly looked at the trees, and they were more beautiful than I have ever seen them, their branches so thickly loaded with snow, they drooped over us, as if protectively. They were stunning, shimmering. I wished we could stop and gaze our fill but of course we had to keep moving.