How vexing to be like a tree planted
to produce sweet apples yet on whose
grafted branches crab apples grow
I know it’s unlikely any other orchard
has any such tree but consider when
ample blossoms bloom
so attractively how hard they’d be
to prune I seek you through your silence
until my prayers go mute
unsure whether to value orchard flowers
or only fruit I bow low then distractedly
turn a flame that should burn hotter
a mountain spring spewing
brackish water a day in May filled
with snow On my best days
contrite & forgiven I look less at what
I try to do & more dear Jesus to you
Here the poet talk about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast.
Fire. Water. Cold. An interesting turning toward God–all the things that either seem to come against us or are, in fact, our own doing. Choosing flowers or fruit is irrelevant in light of those three. Such a complex issue. Lovely imagery.
“I seek through your silence/ until my prayers go mute”
O that I would more often likewise persevere!
Don, your final couplet brings me to tears.
Thank you for nineteen invitations to deepened living . . .
The sound work of this poem is so accomplished, as it always is in your work. Reading it aloud is a pleasure. I’ll be taking this one with me into my meditation time today. Along with the beautiful music and imagery, there is much here to contemplate. Thank you, Don.