We will sit someday soon.
A bucolic park would be welcome, where we can breathe.
A day relaxed and laughing, the sun dancing for us.
A refuge where the wind erases the weight of our bones.
New Eden, we can call it—home away from home.
We will be biblical there amid the figs, the bees, and the emerald dreams.
And the sweeping trees, stoic but wise, will remind.
To stand tall, you must accept and endure.
Accept and endure all that the changing seasons offer.
Sweet, sweat, and sorrow.
Joy, misery, and toil.
All of it, accept and endure.
With weathered hands and heathered hearts.
Find love.
The trees will remind us.
Again and again of this.
When we sit.
And listen.