So in the storm tossed forest

I was rocked to sleep.

That was long ago, O’ ages,

Yet thru these rushing years,

The sounds of a wind rent forest

Is ever in my ears.

{48}

A Wish

THEY called me girl, gave me the name

T

Of one I’ll never see.

I wish they’d given me instead

The name of some nice tree.

A tree that rocks with every wind,

Fast rooted in the ground,

Straining its eager branches up

To where God’s looking down.

A neighbor to the grass and flowers.

A friend to all the skies,

A lovely tree that dares to romp

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