Friday, December 15, 2017


The Sapling’s Star

The night is cold, it is bitter cold,
and the trees are moving, creaking—
screeching in the cold, dark, winter night,
as the stars begin their peeking.

They can see the patch where the maples grow,
nestled in for winter, napping—
and beneath the trunk of a mighty red,
they can see the smallest sapling.

They are shown a strength in its tiny limbs,
of a promise building, keeping—
of a hope to give unsparingly,
of a love for the woodland sleeping.

And they wonder who is showing this,
in whose light a-basking, savoring?
High above the sapling is its Star,
shining brightly, ever favoring!


Copyright 2014