WHITE BIRCHES
Wavy outline of a tree.
Hazy evening light;
I see sentinels stroll.
Tall and clad in white;
Ermine cloaked bole.
Birches speak to me,
I hear their leaves whisper.
Regular trees such a bore,
Compared to birches in a line.
Here you stand, mighty arbor,
Easily two centuries old,
Soaring above me, so bold.
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