By Louise Sutherland-Hoyt
Down by the bank where the Owens bends,
I rested alongside, dreaming, with willows that blend.
As I whittled a stem by the river’s cool gleam,
Cottonwood shavings drifted downstream.
I etched away secrets, unveiling the round,
There, within, a star shape found.
Nestled in heartwood, untouched by the years,
A legend kept quiet, away from my ears.
I held up my treasure, bathed in Autumn’s gold,
A symbol of hope in the stories I’ve told.
For deep in the cottonwood’s rough dusty vein,
My star awaited and whispered my name.
What awaits within.
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