“The Weathered Branch”
The weathered branch in winter’s weariness
Knows whereof it yearns, and just so its certitude and hope;
The blossom finds no time to contemplate, its cope
And mitre, all its careless beauty reigns in azure consciousness
That time and the occasion are not long
Its beginning nor end. All its cries are ice
And burdens in the grip of midnight’s once and only vice
And heard no more. What requiem in its song
While strength in twigs and heavy motherlode
Abides in faith despite its wretched state,
A one in many who live when storms abate
Producing yet a greater majesty despite the deadly cold.
Which melody is heard, outrageous anthem moot
Within hours or living centuries made manifest in the root?