Saturday, July 25, 2009

Birches at Dusk

Pale white trees in the silver dusk,
Silent leaves through the sunset hills,
Drifting blooms in the breathless air:
Songs of Spring on the sparrow bills;
Gentle, gracious, heaving Wind
Catching trees with the fingered fist
Corpulent moon on the bannered sky
Waiting amongst the grass-blown wisps.
Birches, fragrant and bending low,
Wait for the times of integral sun:
Flowering stalks, Springtime dawn
Red, on the brow of the river's run.