The Winter Weed

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  • Nature

    The Winter Weed

    When you see it, you may not know
    How can it grow this time of year?
    Just when the leaves are changing color

    It lays in waiting
    Waiting for the first rains
    Waiting patiently
    Patience
    Are any of you truly patient?

    The rains finally come
    Nourishing, wonderful rain
    And so comes life
    Just when it seems like everything around is dying
    But not the winter weed
    Oh no
    Life has just begun

    It struggles toward the surface
    Putting down it roots
    Roots to take hold
    To make it strong against the winter winds

    Finally, it breaks the hardest of ground
    Mother Earth
    Just where you would think it couldn't
    Wouldn't

    But there it is
    Under the fallen leaves
    It still has a way to go

    Up, up to the light
    Amazing, wondrous light
    Light that makes it stronger
    Healthier

    Now to work
    It has a purpose
    A job to do

    Do you have a purpose?
    A job in life to do?

    The winter weed does
    It must reproduce in one form or another
    And in such a short time as you would see it
    Before its time is done

    You may not notice it as you hurry on by
    But it will grow to its fullest capacity
    With the wondrous, loving light

    Oh, the blessed light that you all need
    Whether you are aware of it or not

    Soon the winter weed begins to bloom
    You may see it
    You may not

    How can this happen in the dead of winter?
    It was meant to flourish
    To do something with its life
    Are you?

    Though the winter weed may struggle
    It will survive
    It may get stepped on from time to time
    It was meant for that to happen too
    That just makes it stronger
    To fulfill its intended purpose

    Will you?
    Will you allow yourself to be fulfilled?

    Soon the winter weed's end will come
    It has done well
    Spring is on its way

    Its seed lays in waiting
    Waiting for the leaves to change color
    Waiting patiently
    Patience
    Waiting for the rains to come

    After all the winter weed
    Is just a plant out of place

    And maybe so are you
    You thought

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    auntiepatty’s Poems (2)

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