I do believe only God can make a tree
Especially the tree here looking at me Soon with brown leaves my lawn will be covered I must keep it raked, winter is coming
In the event that snow does fall in this place
Is where I want Santa to land from out of space even tho this year we may not be surprised here in America's Sandlapper State, it's subject to be sand. Again and again.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.