Time Suspended

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imgresYesterday I received a gift of two cherry trees from my husband Rolly. We met in the month of May in 1967, when I was only 16; a time of cherry blossoms and promises. We have been married now for 44 years, and so I would have to say that he knows me better than anyone, and his gift was very appropriate. It was not given for any particular occasion, which made it all the sweeter; it was a ” just because” gift. In my growing up years we had an orchard that included  several cherry trees, all full size, not the dwarf type you see more often today. The orchard grass was long and lush under the tall trees and it was cooler there in midsummer than anywhere else, so it became one of my favourite spots to be alone  to contemplate life’s mysteries. Hidden among the branches, I could have a little time by myself when I needed it. The following poem was written in memory of those days:

Time Suspended 

My days of climbing cherry trees are over—

My deliberate dropping downward from a limb,

And hanging there suspended by my prayer-calloused knees

To see the world a new inverted way.

The branch is not so smooth now from my summer polishings

And, strangely, not as close now to the ground;

My knees are not so supple now to venture such a thing

As once made every summer day complete.

How lucky was that lady on her flying-high trapeze—

Not quite so close to hungry hornets hovering,

Not quite so close to curious cow that sniffed and moved away,

As frozen there— my long red hair hung down.

I sometimes wake suspended from that ancient cherry tree,

Moving right from dreaming into prayer,

Knees no longer calloused from nightly cold-war pleadings

And the fear that not to kneel was not to pray.

All the world has changed now and I have changed as well—

Some things a whole lot better, some things worse

I only hang from cherry limbs when I am half asleep

But pray from church and chair and bed and bough.

About Yvonne's Musings

Being the second of eight kids born in 11 years to my busy parents ultimately was a real advantage to me. I learned very early that if you wanted to be heard amidst all the noise the best way to accomplish it was to write your thoughts down. My first post to my mother," i hate skool. i cried at skool tooday!" was stuck with ABC chewing gum to the lid of the diaper pail, where I was certain that she would find it. Her attention quickly elicited in me a love of writing that has been life long. Seeking a wider audience I have decided to now, decades later, blog. Happy reading Mom! This is for you!

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