by William D. Cecil, Sr.
(1929)
Black birches bulging between boulders
straightened by time
into trees sublime.
Seedlings once - heaving for light and air
who could know such power
in growth, that shower
and sun would force a young half-buried thing
to lift its heart
in gnarled splendor.
I like to think
of a brittle sassafras
extending itself
to the full height
of a precipice-
trusting blindly
in its strength.
Yet slowly dying
beaten by wind
into sharpened rock.
William D. Cecil, Sr. was born in 1906 and lived
for 96 years. He was a lifelong educator, people person,
and believer in nature. He spent time recuperating
from an illness in the late 1920s and thirties. He used
this time to write poetry and to heal. He was a member
of the Shakespeare Symposium in Lewiston, NY and
wrote biographical material on an artist known for his
depictions of Niagara Falls (Amos Sangster).
copyright 2012, Carolyn Cecil
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