The Crystal Lady

 The Poet's Corner

Thirty Pieces of Silver A Collection of Poems By Joan Estelle High Book 3  ©    2004

The Woods At The Lake By Joan Estelle High ©1995   When I sit here and quietly contemplate The beauty of this wooded place. The green is healing yet it does simulate, And all the wildflowers wear a familiar face. The sky of blues with clouds softly white. The green trees that seem to guard the shore. The scrapes of civilization floating slowly by. Float with dead fish that will swim no more. Mankind's refuse from a thousand years. Washed a shore by a thousand tears. The sun must hurry, it has no time to wait. For with the silver moon it has made a date. It trails along ribbons like streams of light. And hurries to welcome in the cool dark night.

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