White Sentinel
by
Ruth Marie Lovejoy

 

Cylindrical basically white forms
With dabbles of shadows of black
Sinewy phalanges reaching to the heavens, is what birches are
Sentinels on guard in the forest
Standing the test and ages of time
Awe inspiring in mere existence
To the eye and poetic heart
Like the human condition, fragile but strong
Indians believed, the white was of purity
The dark of life's sorrows and costly times
But the birch, oh yes, the birch
Stands in its majestic pride
The birch so similar to that of a child
Has flexibility for give and take
Handling the season winds of change
And like the child, questions not
It draws me to itself in its pristine glory
That I may walk the floor of nature
Look to it with respect forever
And always be inspired
    
Published in The Longfellow Journal, Volume XV
© Ruth Marie Lovejoy
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied or used in any way without written permission from the author.

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