A PILGRIM IN A CHERRY GROVE

By: dc HILL (July 7, 1992)

Three times before, I stood this place.
Me and vigorous cherry trees, face to face.
They, protected by the Escarpment and Lake Ontario.
Trees aligned like military tombstones.
Nurtured by man and Mother Nature,
Season after season.

My first time here? A score and a few years ago.
It was Springtime and the young limbs were graced
With white flowers.Each interlaced
With beauty and a promise.
This innocence would fall and be replaced
By full, fragrant crimson spheres.

In another visit at peak harvest time,
The well pruned trees offered their vitality.
I climbed in rich, laidened trees
To pick ripe clusters for my basket.
The choicest ones went in my mouth.
I tasted sunshine, wind and water.

In early fall, just two years ago,
I saw this grove dotted with biers.
Trees had offered sacrificed limbs
So parts of them may return to earth.
The grove had spaces undotting the landscape.
A cool breeze wrestled with the few remaining leaves.

And now, I’m here in winter.
This grove knows sifted snow,
Uplifted earth and inverted tree trunks.
Roots are planted in the sky. And I know why.
Next spring adolescent cherry trees,
Properly arranged will stand by me –

A pilgrim in a cherry grove.