The yellowing pages turn

eerily standing

between the oak and

the holly

Glazing some leaves

with sunlight God

has chosen

to let others sleep

a while longer.

I turn another yellow

page my great

grandparents in shades

of gray stare at me

solemnly

in Victorian outfits.

Thank you

I whisper

with the gentle breeze

of early morning.

Thank you for the light

that has passed on

generation to generation

In response the leaves

around me ruffle sunlight

dances with my smile.

The yellowing pages tremor

in my hands