Lessons From The Orchard Poem by Jay Loring

The fruit trees in my orchard stand
Like tiny sentries ‘cross the land.
Their leaves are gone, their branches bare.
I wonder, as I see them there…
'Which ones will grow and bloom and thrive,
Their first cold winter's grip survive? '
I stand in awe of ageless strife,
When winter seems to conquer life.
There's little I can do or say
To aid these yearlings in their way.
Their fate is destined to be bound
To healthy roots beneath the ground.
Though some seem strong - both straight and tall,
Still others are bowed down and small.
But each tree grows in its own way,
And it's impossible to say
Which ones will still be standing tall,
When next years' snow begins to fall?
For now, we just hold out for spring
And for the warmth we know ‘twill bring.
And then, of course, it will be clear,
When all the little buds appear.
'I made it! ' little trees will cry.
'I lived! I lived! I didn't die! '
Then joyfully I'll stroll along
Through rows of trees and sing a song
Of years of fruitful bounty yet,
And for a moment to forget
The thousand aches and pain of life;
The cold hard sting of winter's strife,
And look at them, breathe deep and sigh,
'If they can do it, so can I! '