A Tree is Her Grounding
©12-05-12, Olan L. Smith
You are thunderous as a still breeze blows;
You bend with the wind swaying to the beat,
Billowing clouds pass o'er your head.
Whispers the wind, "Wait...wait, water flows,
Wrap the wind in the hollow, at your feet
And boast, 'I am the tree, spirit fed.'"
YOU ARE READING
Older Poems from the Pen of Olan L. Smith
PoetryThis collection is a gathering of most of my older poems, both published and unpublished, making it easier to find my poetry.
