Against white sky, the birch tree opens
its many dark
mouths. She hears its words,
golden river under snow. Secret
honey. Clapper of vein-scribed marble,
that bell rings
each full moon.
Now waning.
Now feeding the mountain underneath.
America's Finest Environmental Magazine
Against white sky, the birch tree opens
its many dark
mouths. She hears its words,
golden river under snow. Secret
honey. Clapper of vein-scribed marble,
that bell rings
each full moon.
Now waning.
Now feeding the mountain underneath.