Among the Acacia

I have a poem called "Among the Acacia" that I'm not sure if I ever posted. So I am posting that in addition to the painting I like to call "Among the Acacia." It might make the poem clearer. I found this picture in a magazine, and I absolutely had to paint it.

Among the Acacia

Deep freckles, too many to count, and more appear each day
Enormous eyes squint in the bright morning sun.
A giantess, unnoticed.
Week and wobbly, though at first
Elegant and grand one day.

Stretching upward, upward, up
A taste of Acacia dew
Then down, down, down to heaven’s mirror.

High to low, then low to high.

Awkward.
She can’t utter a cry, even in desperation.
Fearful of what may come.
Safety.
Only found at Mother’s side.

Can wind sway her like it does the Acacia?
Can a storm uproot her like a grain?

Tan as grass, brown as Earth.

Beauty.
Gentility.
Grace.