She stands very tall, very strong,
Her feet planted firmly in the ground.
She could weather any storm,
She did not waver in the strongest wind.
Her beauty was subtle, ever changing,
Like the seasons, with the seasons.
Her arms stretched out to hold up ones in need,
Her branches leafed out to shade others.
Now she’s old, wrinkled, knotted,
Her limbs are twisted with pain.
Oh Jehovah look, in your eyes she’s still standing,
Hopefully forever to remain.
Author Eileen Clark