November 7th 2020
He tells us to trust the tree,
not to be afraid to cut
the clusters of shoots back to buds, to spring.
Like a hand, he says,
like a hand turned up to receive.
He teaches us to think ahead in years not months,
to see the shape of the future.
And somehow it feels like hope.
As our hesitant fingers grasp the slender twigs,
feel for the leafbuds of next year,
my pocket vibrates with news.
He tells us to let in light and
yes, it feels like hope.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Jane Pearn would be pleased to hear them.