A Ballad of the Seasons

By Phillip Tappan West of Jay there grows a sturdy oak; Tall, mature, distinguished even- Yet full of plight and sorrow. “My neighbors have been coveted” it groaned- swayed by the autumn breeze “What beauty had they that I have not? I the queen of trees!” Seasons past, as each season came, And this oak, … Continue reading A Ballad of the Seasons