Lord, this old tree has become lonesome for Thee
Weighted limbs bow so low; some broken apart and set free.
Roots with long wind stretch deep into your Earth.
They linger, still mingle with beloveds in mirth.
In the transfer of time, mighty lightning and storms crime,
All given, stripped bare, lived through winds divine.
The leaves saught return bright and ripened each year,
To spread your green bounty like a thousand joy tears.
Seen are the cracks, and hoping might bent,
found in time’s stretch of limbs in repent.
Lord this is old tree could not live without Thee,
Yours in all plight; in all weathers, all night.
Given and sealed outstretched arms reach out bent
Weeping to Heaven, this green canopy,
Lord, love this tree as it sings voices of years
ripened by the rains of your sweet jubilee tears.
©2012 Linda Willows