The sage, old woman
Shuffles her way down the path
As rays of brilliance
Beat back the lingering shadows
Overhead limbs of the elders
Stretch, reaching ever skyward
Blossoms fill the aging orchard
Their fragrance, sweet and new
A touch of youth, reminder of time
Too soon her journey must end
She stops to smell the apple blossom
Gnarled fingers on delicate flowers
A moment stolen in her familiar haven
Her seasons have come to an end
Winter has set into her body
But it’s still springtime in her heart.