This Is What the Red Maple Buds Promise Me
Hang in there.
Red Maple buds greet me,
Snatching anxious glimpses
Between rolling waves of mist.
Swaying their heads, they say:
Long months ago,
We fell by the thousands too.
We withdrew inside then,
Hidden, but alive.
The essence of us we preserved.
Reaching out to each other,
Staying as one, across the vastness
Of this gnarled old tree.
The gale howled, seemingly ceaseless.
We grieved, but never stopped believing
In us — the leaves, the flowers, and all others.
Each different, but ultimately the same.
We believed, and here we are again.
Trust us, for we know
Spring will come
For you and your kind too.
About the author
Harsh Kundulli is a storyteller. At work, he tells stories to clients who want to transform their enterprise technology landscape. At home, he tells them to family and friends. His full profile is on…
