A Love For All Seasons

True love is not a flash in the pan; it is something that sparks within friendship and grows into a roaring camp fire. All the water in the world can’t douse its flame. It burns endlessly. A love like that is worth waiting for, fighting for, and protecting.

Eugene Barilla and Song of Songs 8:4;6-7

This is for the friend whose fire is yet to be...

You found me…

In the Winter of my discontent when all my hopes for love felt jaded and I saved myself through freezing to -22⁰C.

You thawed me…

I came to life for you–the first colorful buds of Spring opening cautiously, scared to trust the scorched earth with their beauty and light.

You watered me…

The heat of your Summer as you encouraged and celebrated my dreams brought my garden to bloom.

You harvested me…

In the beauty of Autumn, in the fields full and ripe for picking, you saw the beauty in me and harvested my love for your own.

You give me an all seasons love…

You open yourself to me–unafraid to lay all secrets bare. The sparked flame of your love burns away the baggage of mine and I reciprocate gratefully.

The Tree

I remember when we planted you:

one small twig in an ocean of sand. You bloomed

where you were planted and stretched your arms into the sky, your feet into the sand. You left me

white flowers in spring and sweet fruit in summer. By autumn, you were yellowing but still offering me shade and a safe place to climb. You fill my yard with golden

shreds of yourself; I let them decay and nourish the earth where you left them. Winter settles in and you are stripped bare. I shudder

at the thought that you’re not here. I remind myself you are just sleeping; green life still oozes inside your warm, wrapped branches. I wait,

for spring to waken you and summer to harvest and share you with the world.

But if I’m honest

I’d be just as happy to keep you

all to myself: my special apple secret beneath a yellow moon.