Saturday, June 20, 2015


by alice marston sternwall

illustrated by jacqueline le mot

amanda was a solemn child - her nurse
oft found her wandering barefoot in the fields
sad victim of an ancient family curse
against which truth and beauty were no shield

such times with farm folk would amanda speak
and quest them on the symbols in the skies
and though her speech was most exceeding meek
no comprehension glowed in her pale eyes

the nurse, a hawkfaced old frenchwoman stern
with little patience and less charity
to no avail could make amanda learn
that naught was gained by talking to the trees

the trees, the rocks, the running streams, the clouds
were all recipients of amanda’s words
although they never answered her aloud
unlike her truest, dearest friends - the birds

anon upon a rock the old dame sat
and left amanda to her babbling cries
the verdant meadow spread its welcome mat
a hive of life whose buzzing never dies

all unrecorded went amanda’s dreams
vanished like dew upon the sun warmed grass
like bubbles in the slow meandering streams
like sunbeams in the long days as they pass

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