Posts Tagged ‘tune the robins sing’

The sun had heated the wrinkled skin,

And precious warmth instilled within,

          With seemingly no outward result.

But inside the movement of sap,

Permeated the cells (as roads a map)

          It was the renewed sunshine’s “fault.”


The sap came up from the deepest root,

To the farthest, round, diminishing shoot,

          In action and time, like each spring.

Running by day, and stopping by night,

Then, again continuing its insistent flight,

          To the tune that the robins sing.


Then at last appeared the bud, deep red.

On the tree that last winter looked so dead;

          But now it stands, awake from its nap.

On upper branches the buds opened wide,

Revealing the tender green hid inside –

          Oh, the wonderful power of the sap.  –eab, ‘66 APR    

Read Full Post »