Birch Tree
The birch tree in winter
Leaning over the secret pool
Is Narcissus in love
With the slight white branches,
The slim trunk,
In the dark glass;
But,
Spring coming on,
Is afraid,
And scarfs the white limbs
In green.
-Arthur Seymour and John Tessimond
This is an other one from my walk in the Railroad district yesterday. I’m not being lazy, really, but I have some night photography planned for this evening and I don’t think I’m going to feel like editing and posting images when I’m done. So, you will just have to wait another day for those and enjoy the birch leaf in the meantime. Of course, the obvious choice of poems would have been Robert Frost’s Birches but I just used him yesterday and that poem is a little too long.