Before me stands a birch tree

tall, strong and lean. 

Although less sap runs through it 

branches becoming brittle

 it never droops

but ever reaches

for the sky.

The trunk is solid


but from it

every year

new branches grow

swaying easy

in the ever changing winds.

The bark

black pearls on white parchment


adding majesty.

Leaves dance in a multitude of colors

red, yellow, orange carpet its base.

I collect as many as I can

inside my book of memories.


patricia gavigan


@ 1994