I repotted some trees on the weekend, trees I was freely given that were bursting out of their cheap green plastic pots. The picture was one of those trees in autumn, and it is not yet early spring, but the potting called to mind this poem in any case. It’s so true. We may consider some things predictable and sure, but life can prove us wrong, and all we know is now.
FOR THE FUTURE
Planting trees in early spring,
we make a place for birds to sing
in time to come. How do we know?
They are singing here now.
There is no other guarantee
that singing will ever be.