Hope Is A Peach Tree Blooming

By John Caldwell © 1987

Issue: February, 1987

Hope is a peach tree blooming.
T'was so when I was a child,
Standing in a fresh plowed
Garden on a hillside wild.

Hope was young and rare
And its blossoms, pink;
Its secret, I thought,
The fortunes of strength

"God was its maker!"
Somewhere I'd heard said,
And that left no doubt,
No fear and no dread.

And this was the same on Dogwood Ridge
As it was in Saururus Hollow.

In seasons of its life,
Hope was a wee thing growing,
With sheaves of tender leaves
Stuffed into spring winds flowing,

The roots reinforced
And limbs lifted by
The mountain's vanguard
Of each summer's sky.

And this was the same on Dogwood Ridge
As it was in Saururus Hollow.