– HICKORY LOVE –
She was a stormy, misbehaved, fighting girl, defiant and tantrum prone; a whirlwind of anger, frustration, defiance, and cheek, prone to storm and caterwaul about, chin thrust forward, head back, unafraid to bellow or scream challenges at the adversarial towers who chase her fleeing pony’s tail while she seeks distance from their enclosure and taming tools.
Theirs are not the horse master’s taming tools; the rope, the bridle, the nailed shoe. Their tools: the hard brush, the kitchen flap, sibling’s cat claws driven or, the bent switch of a sapling tree; quick burning strokes given with howling protest to take away power and drive her temper beneath a blanket of humility.
Their taunting blows only fuel her fury.
On days when cool water lapped sandy shores, (two natural elements in perfect balance) the girl sought maternal warmth and together, they lay curled in sleep and shared their day’s dreams.
Later, in shadows born of an orange autumn sun I watched them ride on dirt roads past fields of cut yellow corn to a copse of hickory trees where they gathered bounties of nuts and bittersweet vines …
While I sat on a hickory tree’s outstretched limb we … the Mother tree and I … looked down on the girl and when I asked, the mother tree spoke and with nature’s smooth vibrating tone says Yes, the girl and her mother were the same as the offspring trees grown from her seeds.
When night sky crept into evening light dreams entered the girls mind. Cradled in grass under the hickory tree, sunlight pours nurturing warmth upon the girl while a crown of seeds gently strokes her cheek.
As the gray light of dawn slowly absorbed the night sky, wakefulness crept into her sleep. Drifting into awareness the girl felt the crown of seeds stroke her cheek. Through opened eyes maternal light poured down upon the girl while her mother gently stroked her cheek.