Branches spreading out against the prismatic sky. Twisting and stretching with new growth.
A time to grow, a time for change.
The trunk scarred and dead inside, yet still the limbs produce healthy leaves that unfurl under the warming sunlight.
Bright globes of ripening fruit that with the smallest touch will bruise easily and fall to the ground. Tender young flesh needing the nourishment from even a dying tree.
They will continue to grow into maturity even in the death of the trunk, there is still time. Time to flourish, time to toughen the skins while the tender meat inside remains sweet.
With the gentle hand of the one who encouraged the tree to blossom and bear fruit, these cherished young lives still have time. Time to mature, time to love, time to live.