The Thinking Tree

The Thinking Tree

The Thinking Tree

I journeyed again
To that quiet spot
Where I set down my load
And wandered my thoughts.

Wiping sweat from my brow
I lounged in the shade
Of a stout, rustling friend
In a rich, verdant glade.

How many hours
Spent innocently,
With eyes half-shut
Did I bask in the breeze?

The world passed me by,
Time slowed to a crawl,
As I waited for answers
To ripen and fall.

Would they be bitter,
Or would they taste sweet?
Would they foretell
Of tasks I’d complete?

Perhaps I would taste
How my life could unfold:
Precious friendships and mem’ries
To be gilded with gold.

Or maybe I’d swallow
In disappointment and dread
One sour bite too many
And fear horizons ahead.

As I pondered my quandary
And dwelled on my fate,
A tiny thought struck me
And ceased my debate.

For then I remembered
A truth I’d long known:
That answers, like fruit,
Blossom all on their own.

Neither threats nor pleas
Nor vile malediction
Could hasten their ripening-
To say else would be fiction.

What answers it held
Were not yet meant for me.
I should merely trust in the One
Who planted that tree.

Its seed in due time
Would flower and grow
And provide me direction
Through life’s ebb and flow.

Yet the real fruit I sought
Would not be borne by a tree
But rather faith, hope, and love
Grown within me.

This above all,
My earnest desire:
To walk humbly in truth
And do all He requires.



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