She liked to pray by the knotted old tree
On the hill facing the restless sea.
She called it her, “Prayer Tree, ”
Because, she said, “It’s old and gnarled like me.”
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“Yes cried the crabbed old one, in a voice filled with joy. “Rejoice, rejoice, for I hear the song of the dove! Why, it’s like a cloudburst of love! ” Amazingly fine woven words like silk to the eye, beautiful and timeless Love duncan X
The old woman and the tree forever together in this beautiful elegiac effort. This word painting is a 'Mary Naylor' worth hanging in the finest poetry gallery.Take care. Warmest regards, Sandra