bearing fruit

it was with sadness and love
that i planted the birthday tree
that she had been given
that she would have planted herself
had she lived.

we had spoken about the tree
walked the fields to find the place
where the gift of its love
might flourish
walked the fields looking
for sun and deep soil
marked the spot
with rose quartz.

she would have planted
herself there
had she lived.

i could not watch it die too
so i took the tree
from her now silent doorway
in those awful quiet days
when she was still my neighbour
even though she had passed,
and dug a hole
where she would have planted.
watered the young tree in.

i looked for it a few times
over years passed – between tenants
but her fields had grown to forest
and her garden over run with time.

we have new neighbour’s now
sunday morning first time at the garden gate
with peaches in their hands
the tree was blossoming, they said,
when they first walked the land.
they have pushed back the weeds
harvested these in time
not knowing yet
the gift they brought me
or the love that lives
in the land.



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