Slow Bloomer

Perhaps I’ve needed
Extra nurture,
More blooming time
Than most,
But I’ve been pruned
And tended well
By Him whose
Fruit I’ll bear,
And He understands
My seasons
More than I;
I am content that
He will harvest
When I’m ripe.
And when it’s time
For gleaning,
I’ll be grateful
For the time
He spent in sowing;
The reaping
Will be richer
For the growing.


Day in
Day out
Day inch
Day ouch.
Sunrise, Sunset,
Some rays, sum spent.
Never steadyeversteady stillness.
Always clacky syncopation,
to jog my mind
and make me grapple for a stand.
As I face the travel on,
day out
will drill some doubt,
day in
might dangle sin.
But opposition makes the zing
of rebound
I sometimes hurtle breathless back
spent from bitter earthlife tick
to better understand a tock.
And so I feel a swelling zeal
as day-in drone and day-out pound
day by day begins to sound
more like a lovely overture:
Music only just begun.
My own eternal symphony.

[photo] Photography by Eldon Linschoten