WHITE TREE AT TWILIGHT
Shadowed by a sunless wood
Where loveliness should never grow,
Her branches spilled their starry foam
Like unexpected fall of snow.
A white spire singing of maidenhood
Beside a dead or dying tree
Shed quicksilver blossoms that trapped the light,
Kindling the thicket beneath the dome
Of the slow-descending, star-heavy night —
And hope soared up like a litany.
© 2008 by Ellin Anderson. All rights
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