The Woods

The Woods 11-29-08 By William L. Moore For William McCracken Milroy In the woods the trees so tall Mourning birds begin to call Waiting for the break of day Scattering seed where it may lay From the little wooden basket Which resembles a tiny casket As far as it may be seen The willowy grass so green The leafy branches may break or bend But in the time it takes to mend Grow roots so straight and true Forever catching all the dew So straight, so true, so strong At which they do belong Keeps us all on our toes So we should always know The trees so full of Dove Cooing of their love Always will return to dust This great earth belongs to us After the end We will begin again Uncle Bill This was written When I thought Of the Farm west of Okmulgee, Oklahoma