THE LITTLE CHERRY

Look to the oak tree

And hear what tale he tells:

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"Once upon a time

There lived a gnarled cherry tree

Bent and twisted ev'ry which way

Though it bore much fruit

'Twas riddled with disease

And ten little cherries

Perch'd sadly on a branch.

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Spring acquiesced to harsher weather

And the threatening axe

Made his way up the hill.

Menacing hands struck at

The frail, shriveled roots;

The cherries saddened and quailed

As the shaking increased.

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Crying and quaking one cherry fell

Tumbling tumbling down the steep hill

Barely ahead of the stumbling tree

Which also careening was sent down the hill,

Cherries flying

Ev'ry which way.

​

There laid the cherry naked and bare

Whose flesh had been plucked

By various crows

The remnants scorched by merciless heat.

So all that was left

Of the sad little cherry

Was the sad little seed laid bare on the ground.

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Exposed to the world

The cherry seed moaned,

'A beautiful, fruitful cherry tree

Will never come

From a broken seed like me.'

And the sad little seed

Laid down to weep

Not noticing the Child stooped

To kiss the weeping cherry seed.

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What ever happened to the little cherry

None truly know.

But I think it grew

Into a beautiful tree

With bounteous blossoming boughs

Releasing petals to the breeze

In the garden of a Child."

​

And the oak tree spoke no more

But turning looked away.