Years ago, a seed was planted
Far beneath the dampened soil
Her beauty seemed quite enchanted
Though glory can oft be foiled
The smallest kernel in the bundle
Rooted on a fertile glade
Soon eclipsed the rails and rundles
Of the tallest ladder made.

Many souls had shared the story
That the seedling was a mute
Yet, she grew and thrived in glory
With a voice, none could refute –
When the wind began to whistle
And the sunlit skies turned dim
Peace was found in every bristle
As her strength poured from within.

She was once a tiny sapling
Written off as poor and frail
A firm victim of the grappling
That nature was sure to hail
But, against all odds, she flourished
And forevermore, she’ll thrive –
The seedling’s life is ever nourished
By the fact she is alive.

© 2006 – Jill Eisnaugle’s Poetry Collection