I took this photo from the Fairview Townsite. It made me think of my Mom and a poem she had written many years ago.  It is from a collection of her poetry titled “Wood Fires”.

Black Sage

Greasewood trees are always old
     And gnarled and twisted, where
They crouch along the hilltop
     With ragged limbs in air.

Greasewood leaves are dusty green
     And dull and tiny, still
Greasewoods carry cheer enough
     To brighten all the hill.

Greasewood bloom is neat and gay,
     Like elf-lamps burning high;
Like little yellow candle-wicks
     Alight against the sky.

Greasewood trees are always old
     And gnarled and twisted, so
They crouch along the hilltop
     With ragged limbs bent low

 

Written by Isabel Christie MacNaughton

Photo and poem submitted by Heather Frank