My black-streaked, white fingers
reach toward the sky.
Take a ride: I sway and
bend... What am I?
Clothed in summer,
in winter, bare,
torn into scrolls,
tear by tear.
Who am I?
(a white birch tree)
reach toward the sky.
Take a ride: I sway and
bend... What am I?
Clothed in summer,
in winter, bare,
torn into scrolls,
tear by tear.
Who am I?
(a white birch tree)
Birches!!!!
ReplyDeleteOh Oh Pick Me Pick Me.
ReplyDeleteI am a TREE. Am I right?
Lisa
InspiredbyLisa
See the answer in gray against
ReplyDeletethe green bar below the poem!