by Ethel Mortenson Davis

A Vision

Out of the fire,
with the splitting
of the cone,
a seed emerges.
bring it to the soil.
A new tree begins
it’s rapture.

Out of the fire
we have found
new pathways,
a new vision.
We bring the least of us
along in our wagons.
There are no slaves or rich men.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

4 responses to “Seed

  1. That is beautiful Ethel: both thoughtful and deeply moving. So appropriate for Easter Sunday in these fearful times.

  2. A new tree begins its rapture.
    Wonderful! I suspect that’s going to stay with me on my walks.

  3. Wonderful poem, Ethel – as always! 🙂

  4. This piece has a special depth, magic and atmosphere. Almost like a whole novel distilled into two short verses.

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