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 Pages Of A Woman's Soul


Black and green stick people
march across the land
in uneven rows,
in untold numbers,
they bring joy into hearts
even human love cannot touch.

The trees, so verdant,
so alive, dance a
picturesque ballet
swaying with the touch
of late summer's breeze.

Trusting fowl may rest their
beaten wings upon the limb
of a mighty elm or oak
and know they will not be
shaken from their chosen home.

Oh, to be a tree,
harboring all who pass
beneath my boughs
so green with
life and love!

K.Tate Jacoby
copyright 9/9/75

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