This is a poem by my dear cousin, Mary V. Iles Hudson. She lives in Lake Charles and is full of live at 90+.
She is one of the last remaining great-grandchildren of my heroes in The Wayfaring Stranger/A Good Place, Joe and Eliza Moore.
A seed fell on a certain spot.
Just how or when mankind knows not.
It pushed through sod to hold its head up straight.
Then quietly, trusting nature seemed to wait
For sunshine, rain, and wind.
How could it know t’would bend?
There must have come a storm so great until
It grasped that tree with hands like steel
And bent it o’er against its will.
O lovely leaning tree!
Explain your mystery, your charm,
So all may hear!
T’is though a small still voice speaks,
Mary V. Iles Hudson