The branches looked first like tepees,
but there was no emptiness.
Like piles of leaves waiting
for fire: at the foot of
the wisewoman trees,
at the foot of the broken General,
next to the tree of the veteran girl
who died this summer slow red cloth
The Branches
Jean Valentine
(1)
Poem topics: fire, girl, red, summer, tree, broken, slow, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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