Walking down the dirt road,
They leave me behind,
For one more time.
The Dutch trees providing direction,
Without any purpose,
Than watching them two,
It has no temporary mode.
Because is it contagious,
Impossible to resist.
Due to its grace-filled source.
God’s love for us.
The spongy mesophyll is obvious now,
Even in the out of focus areas,
Blurred by the present,
In readiness for new growth.
Visible on the path,
The tree stub of my presence remains,
Like a mile marker on a journey,
When once they sheltered under my branches,
And now they walk by,
Wondering why this vestige has not been removed.
Not knowing what sort of tree grew here.
Taking some alone time,
Grains falling through my mind,
Each one considered,
Collecting in a lifepile which supports me.
All of the same color, yet different.