• Wendy Gull

Words Of The Vine

The wavering wind bends the reeds

To scatter unplanted seeds

That fall upon the dust

Where hope entwines with trust

And buries the unborn soul

To die and rise and be made whole

For Earth bleeds into seeds that wait

Nervous sighs constrict; dilate

To sprout the branches of the vine

Climbing though the earth to twine

Captive thoughts that choke the tree

And all that hinders what it can be

Watered by the words that feed

To reach beyond the gaps decreed

It grows and goes no place that’s been

And bears the fruit we’ve never seen

And all who sit beneath that tree

Find stories that their soul can see