Last evening, the computer and Chromebook were in use, and I hate to type on my phone, so I let yesterday’s prompt–to write a poem titled “Little (_______)“–go until this morning.
The little apple tree is a doorway,
a liminal space between here and beyond.
When you open the door of your heart
and walk beneath her branches,
you might find yourself not in cultivated fields,
but in the wild woods of the Lady herself.
Though she stands alone in this world,
her roots run deep in the soil of the Sacred Grove.
Her branches brush the branches of her sisters,
there in the world where she was truly sprouted.
Listen for the voice of the One who calls you,
open the quiet spaces within you,
and settle in silence at the base of her trunk.
You, too, may feel the winds of another world
rustling through your own branches.
Mockingbird Chronicles 