|Blossoms, fruits, and leaves of the apple tree.|
She met a tree who called her name and let
her climb for vision and sour apples.
She met a mixed-breed pup whose loyalty
and love knew no bounds in life or in death.
She met a rock that stubbed her toe without
moving from her path, without eroding.
She met a stranger who held her hand through
pain and sadness without knowing her name.
She met a man who created beauty
in sand drawings he let wind blow away.
She met a woman who increased goodness
by finding three causes for hope each day.
She met herself in a gasp of surprise
and laughter among the lines of her songs.
For my prompt
And for the #8 April Poetry 2015.
Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast