In the muck of this wintery Louisiana stillness, life wiggles.
It stretches deep.
I see it when I bend down to cleave the water hose from the muddy Louisiana soil.
Despite the endless rain, the chickens sawed-in-half water jug from Kenwood needs refilling.
There beside the water's lifeline lies life in its raw red flesh. Life pulsing through it.
Old, tired acorn shell is cracked and parted to produce the life within.
Where others fell on rocky ground...
and unyielding cement ...
When others lay crushed, an open invitation for snack-feasting-worms...
Because, despite the winter's void desolation, it has hopes of becoming another Cajun oak with the potential to shade our little Cajun cottage.
It stretches deep.
I see it when I bend down to cleave the water hose from the muddy Louisiana soil.
Despite the endless rain, the chickens sawed-in-half water jug from Kenwood needs refilling.
Old, tired acorn shell is cracked and parted to produce the life within.
Where others fell on rocky ground...
and unyielding cement ...
When others lay crushed, an open invitation for snack-feasting-worms...
This little one nestled beneath life's harsh reality and soaked up the earth's manna and life-giving water.
Because, despite the winter's void desolation, it has hopes of becoming another Cajun oak with the potential to shade our little Cajun cottage.
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