by William D. Cecil, Sr.
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