winter treasure

This poem has been stashed away while I awaited the approach of the dead of winter. Today, while Friend #7 and I were walking (treading slush, really) in the almost-balmy winter air, I spotted a rickety apple tree in a field and remembered this little treasure. It was not written by me, but by a 95 year old woman who published her first poem when she was in her eighties. How inspiring is that? Enjoy.

Another Sarah
by anne porter

When winter was half over
God sent three angels to the apple-tree
Who said to her
"Be glad, you little rack
Of empty sticks,
Because you have been chosen.

In May you will become
A wave of living sweetness
A nation of white petals
A dynasty of apples