The trees are slowly changing their colors
some sooner than others – ones of all sizes
and shapes surrender their leaves, but one
stands stronger than the rest!
The breeze blew upon the trees the poplar beech and willow, once providingThis poem appear in
shade now their leaves in piles lay but the old oak tree stands alone
fully dressed quietly defying the rest. Not one leaf shakes, not one branch
breaks. It is unshaken! . . . Standing below this majestic tree, surveying the
strength it is to me, I like the oak holding on to the the old, must wait in His
time making room for the new. Until then I am unshaken!
my book “Unshaken”