The silver pillars of the oasis, by winter
More upright, simple, and sharp
The white earth enters the woodcut time
The snow covers the stubble like the beard of a madman
Turning the bare trees into
Spears and swords thrust into the sky
The earth has paused and fallen
Like a deep bottle of ink
Poplars have enough ink to cry with
The cold wind is in its bones, shaking off the dead leaves
Its lost pomp and words
This naked, mute tree
Is waking up from its hibernation
The uprising of the wind makes it rise up
Between the wind and the wind, between the tree and the tree
A nameless and majestic force
Searching for the cleft between life and death
Across the neat band of aspen forest
Is the plowed land and wilderness of the storm
Whistling or whimpering, both are
The absolute authority produced by nature
About the Creator
Christy R Davis
If you want your dreams to come true, you must first wake up from your dreams.
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