of tendril birch branch hangings
the moon is a twinkling
kaleidoscope on the rise
the west wind
like a crescendo comes to dance
with the dreaming birch
who stirs gracefully
in the outcropping of the yard
from here the moon
is on an eastern climb
slowly through the summer sky
casting bits of fire
through birch
apple and cherry
setting it all ablaze
great title, great images, great trees, great last line. it almost sounds like cormac, if he were to ever curl the corners of his tight mouth into a smile at the end. can i have one of these bad boys about the rain, maybe?
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