An Ugly Old Stump
Just an ugly old stump -- that's all it was -- and old stumps carry no hopes or dreams.
Only maps and memory rings
of thirsty days, hard toil, and weary longings
embedded to the core.
Just an ugly old stump -- a dwarfed reminder -- of what once was. . . and all that might have been.
If only.
If only.
But old stumps carry no hopes or dreams --
Only scarred rememberings. . .
of lightening strikes and howling wind,
of squirrels and hammer heads,
of children's summer climbings,
All these now faded away
To just an ugly old stump -- useless for humans, but to
to sit
to rest
to think
And hurried humans hardly take the time to do such things.
Just an ugly old stump -- that's all it was -- and old stumps carry no hopes or dreams.
Or do they?
Look again. Could it be? A tiny sprout of green?
What could this possibly mean?
"A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse" Isa. 11:1
"Hope springs eternal in the human breast. . ." Alexander Pope
"The thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!"