Beauty Is.

By Joan Estelle High

© Jan 2004

There is beauty in a green and silvery willow tree

As it waves it's leafy arms , just longing to be free.

Beauty is an azure sky of blue smiling down on me.

With it's clouds of marshmallows sailing out to sea.

Beauty is a tiny  violet that is wet with drops of dew.

That lies nestled just beyond my  little baby's reach.

My baby is  lovely as a rose bud in my open hand.

And  she is  sweet and tender as a Georgia peach.

Beauty is the American flag that the breeze unfurls.

It's blowing out across a free and prosperous land.

This long time symbol that means to me  the  world.

Of purple mountains majesty and beaches golden sand.

Beauty can be a fragile gift you hold within your hand.

Or  be a trout stream unpolluted by the hand of man.

The farm pond where you went skinny dipping as a kid.

The cool green forest where you played as a rabbit hid.

Beauty is all these things and it can be so much more.

The Universe's plan to feed your hungry soul and mine.

From New York   in the East  to the California's shore.

From Washington's apple trees to Texas's mighty pine.

The only solace of the poor and a joy to all mankind.