Sitting Among Sages

To book and keep a date with trees

Is quite imperative, my dear

For they say more with bend of breeze

Than peopled mouths preach in a year

Hush; hush thy rush of ordained mist

Come, pause beneath Jehovah’s laud

Of patriarchal pacifists

Ever reaching upward to God

Put down thy weight of daily dues

Those Mores will wait; wander the wood

For soft the gate of twilight hues

Swings shut upon our 'But' and 'Should'

So, when you plan your day or week

Amidst enlisted loyalties

If you wish to hear sages speak

Then spend an afternoon with trees

© Janet Martin