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 The Sapling
I’m always unprepared
when a sapling begins to rise,
They start out so small and frail
then mature before my eyes.
It seems for the longest time
they stay so thin and weak,
Then all of a sudden
with a voice so deep they speak.
That’s when I’m caught unprepared
for I’m used to them looking up,
Now they meet me eye-to-eye
and I realize they’re no longer a pup.
They don’t have much experience
but the size and strength are there,
And it won’t be long until
we see how much they dare.
But a wise old oak will know
how much to cuff the sprout,
Enough to keep him in line
until maturity straightens him out.
JRS © 8-8-99
The "Okie" Poet
All poems copyrighted
ã1997-... Spring Creations
The "Okie" Poet
All Rights Reserved
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