There is a Stand of Beech
Stark and skeletal
on the Hill
Sentinals in a cold wind
from the North
I still see them now
clear in the mind's recall
I held your hand
and we...leaning to the wind
climbed onward
to the crest
A slant of Moonbeams
clear and bright silvered
danced in your eyes
a bright glory reflected
from the soul
while we watched and waited
beneath those ancient trees
for the artist of heaven
to paint dark pictures
on the landscape of home
and our hearts
