Vine Ripened

  
Indian summer first beheld your red-gold crown
'n tiny fists that grasped too soon
the lay of broken lands
you had no desire to rule
or choice but to traverse
In spite of your directional disfunctionality
you navigated the wastelands
came out the other side
unscathed to the naked eye
 
Falling all over yourself to fit in
you kept your head down
nose in books
ducked the troubles
that plagued kith and kin
found yourself  
lost
in your own
 
Wintered a while
in discontent
seething but settling
for second string
in a discordant
rock opera
waiting  
to become the fat lady
to sing
 
Finally
a new tune
springs
from this little chickadee  
I took all that you had
all that you knew  
and hoped
and dreamed
and sat down to write
words poured out
with the music
from your heart
to foster
this new growth
new life
that's climbing the trellis
you built for me