Mountain Laurel Living
by Bethany Peck
Mountain Laurel Living
The days draw near,
when the woods are ready to burst
with bouquets of delicate white blossoms.
The perfect pure beauty,
of my mountain laurel.
Through the decay of autumn,
and then amidst the snow,
I watch and wait;
drawing strength from their evergreen
signs of life.
While all else is wintering,
my hope is held by the wind.
Blowing now as a sweet spring breeze,
soon to be realized
among these flowering trees.
These are my loves now,
the longings that give me life.
Adopted and treasured,
as my path veered off course
from the ways I imagined.
For what happens,
when dreams die,
as the bud of a young heart
is nipped, and no more;
pruned by providence?
Offerings they become;
of outstretched arms,
and open hands.
Hopes floating away,
with longing and lament.
These unrealized desires,
kingdoms of my own making,
fall with anguish
onto the grave
of a heart torn asunder.
And the tears that flow
steady and silent,
water that ground,
soaked up
by the soil of suffering.
I cannot force,
a future lost.
My feeble hands trying to till
are no match for the
master gardener,
as He tends the tears
and the soil,
to germinate the seeds
of new hope,
new life.
As I wander amidst
the springtime’s mountain laurel,
with the wind whispering
the memories
of those lost dreams,
I delight in the beauty
blooming before me,
on this season’s trails
that take a new direction
with wondrous sights unseen.
All photography by Bethany Peck