Weeping Fruit Trees of Mother Earth
a poem for Earth Day
Today is Earth Day. Earth Day, an annual and global event, began in 1970 as a response to a massive oil spill off the coast of southern California. This disaster had a devastating impact on the environment, animal and marine life. It also sparked a world wide movement to not only protect the earth and her resources, but also to educate, advocate, raise awareness, and increase action.
This week I’m sharing a new poem inspired by earth, my mother, and lessons a tree in the yard teaches me about caring for others and for creation.
Take a read and listen below. And then I invite you to reflect on your relationship with earth. To consider the ways you are supporting her survival and flourishing. Take a walk or open a window. Breathe. Listen. Respond.
With gratitude, Rebecca
Weeping Fruit Trees of Mother Earth ©Rebecca Wilson, April 20, 2026
once a year it comes alive pink buds becoming beautiful fragrant white blossoms flickers of gold when the sunlight hits just right dangling to the earth like frayed edges of a blue satin nightgown dancing in the wind unsteady, off beat after months of not being on her feet would she ever walk again that spring of cancer, chemo, radiation resignation, attempted acceptance of a bleak prognosis it arrived like a love note uploaded to my chart open the blinds, she said, so I can see it moving slowly toward the window exhausted to the bone watching her wither away angry, so angry at death branches that bloom so quickly drop too soon by the time you understand them they are gone days—a week—if you’re lucky mortality changed us she became more patient me more anxious we less focused on the future the present a world of constant chaos fearing hope more than we believed it digging so deeply to believe it and now, three years later, April is our spring again healing tears coming from a corner of the yard the weeping fruit tree a sign, a song her soft petals a temporary joy inviting our eternal attention softening our calloused edges those green leaves calling us to summer singing the real story of how we survive the seasons seeking to uproot us
This Friday is a special anniversary for 10CAMELS. I’ll be sharing more about it in our email newsletter. Already on the list? Thank you! Not yet signed up? Click here to join now. No spam, I promise. Just poems and possibilities.
After a quick trip away, I’m back signing and shipping out copies of Not My Grandmother’s Hymnal. Here’s a photo from “the bean” in Chicago. And here’s a link to order these curious poems.





Thank you for sharing. We just had a rain here today, and I'm looking forward to taking more notice of the many (in this case metaphorical) "weeping trees" when I go on a walk later.
Lovely Rebecca. Just lovely. So many feelings and memories wrapped up in this