MEDITATIONS UNDER AN APPLE TREE (for DVerse)

Grass swished as Thunder and I walked across the yard. Dew sparkled under the early May morning sun. Thunder dragged me towards the apple and pear orchard and headed for the nearest tree trunk to water. The trees have just started to bloom.  A long harsh winter  delayed spring in Maine.

I did not want to be here in my in-laws’ place. I wished I were at home to see the peonies and Clematis that I planted in bloom. Ordinarily, this kind of visit should not be a big deal. However, every year for two weeks, we make this trip to Maine (in addition to the summer and Christmas visits which last just as long). Sometimes, I resent these trips. What’s the point of planting and nurturing when I cannot even enjoy flowery rewards? There I was, right after the thaw, counting the buds shooting from the ground like a fussy mother. Each day, I would check their progress and delight at each new bud, only to be denied their blooms.

I saw the apple blossoms above me, white and pure in the sun. I saw the blooming dogwood trees, deep pink against the new greens. Across the yard, the lilac buds were purple and plump, preparing to open in the next few days. What beauties! I never had the chance to be this close, everyday, to these flowering trees. In some ways, I lost some things I love to appreciate other things.

Planting a garden
leaving before flowers bloom
learning detachment

I stayed under a flowering pear tree for a few minutes, listened to the buzz of the bees, watched the flowers sway in the breeze while Thunder sniffed on the grass. Already, some flowers are dying. How soon they faded. Even if we fight it, nature always takes its course. Things live, and grow, and die. Flowers, seasons, feelings, people – they all go at their appointed time. The boughs quivered, and petals brushed on my skin on their way down.

White petals falling
pollen-heavy bees buzzing
apples in autumn.

For DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Meeting the Bar – the Haibun.