Waiting
Waiting evokes particular memories and awakens different responses in all of us. It’s impossible to know if this tree waits for the coming winter or for spring’s sunny warmth and rain, when buds will swell and open, and leaves will cover its stark frame once again.
For all we know, it might be waiting for a hunter to put up a deer stand or for a scout to climb its topmost branches and scan the horizon. An A.A. Milne child might ask if it’s waiting for Christopher Robin and Eyore to walk by once again in search of Winnie the Poo. A carpenter or woodsman might think it’s waiting for the ax and the adze to change it into furniture, banjo necks, baseball bats or fuel. Perhaps the the tree itself is waiting to clap its hands in joy.
For you shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace . . . and all the trees of the fields shall clap their hands. Isaiah 55:12 KJV
Even so, Lord, we wait, gratefully knowing that
They also serve who only stand and wait.
John Milton, On His Blindness, Sonnet 14
