A lonesome tree, once the apple bough
About the orchard land once the furrow plough,
Once the farmhouse dwelling
Gray dismal morning, the steeple bell knelling.
Came the storm clouds scowling
Down the rain, the wind blowing, howling,
Once below in pitch black frowning
Had the soil despaired and drowning.
Of time and water in the rounding pool
Came the clapper sound at the old school,
The sun grew rounder, the moon always rose
Children skipped pebbles in the drying shadows.
Under new made clouds the soil with daisies
The orchard crisp with nectar, the morning hazy,
Horses in a stable, the farmhouse- then to waken
In the highroad sky, the rain and wind forsaken.
Copyright © 08/21/2016 lance sheridan®