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The Maple Tree
Born of knarled limbs
And dark withered fingers
Fluttering, bibulous bits of shirred lace
Like lime green tears
Reach out to behold the new.
With time they umbrella, robustly labyrinthed,
Each saucy leaf slightly askew
In cobble-webbed clumps of sporatic splender.
Rare-bottomed cherubs, sunkissed, shoot heavenward
Tipping with a rosey hue some soft-bosomed boughs,
Lofty limbs fraught with pleasing, flouted notes,
Crisp chirps and soft warblings.
Benevolent winds teasingly rock and play
Entertaining hour after hour
' Til balmy blasts toss their wraps on high
Baring their silver linings.
Wafting tantrummed-bumber-shoots,
Furling and flickering,
Flap their tandum tops sharply
In the tangent summer air.

By: Frances Jean Gildersleeve-Beaupre'

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