When I look out the window pane each day at three to stare

Or rest my elbows on the sill each morn to breathe the air

Sometimes, more now than then, in solitude and thought I see

Delightful sights up on a hill where sits the Ladies Tree


I love to lean and look beyond her shades to pillowed clouds

Out over plains and flowers blowing breezily about

And slightly to one side and down the hill by banks of grass

Is Frogs Spring blue where children often sing, hold hands, and dance


Wistfully turning back inside my house to clean and strain

Over some things collected through my years of joy and pain

With tears I realize the things more treasured than the rest

Are friendships that were forged from youth while playing on that crest


Then came a day I still recall with joy and leaping heart

When at my sill I saw those friends, like me, now aged depart

They left their things, they moved with grace, I saw that from my sill

They looked to make their way across that plain and on that hill


I lean and think that heaven’s call may not be all that long

And how it would be nice to meet those friends once more for song

My apron off, I have a change in plans today at three

Today’s the day I’ll leave my sill and run to the Ladies Tree