Your silver trunk and dark spotted branches,
nestled in the winter snow,
your red blood known for many cures.
You drop your seeds in the coldest times,
are the first to grow after fire.

You prepare the way for other trees
and grow on barren land,
your branches while against the whites now,
your fallen leaves and branches,
nourishment for those that follow.

My memories see you standing there
in the wintry home of my youth.
Though in appearance delicate and soft
You have the strength to grow
when others quickly die.

You are the seed of beginnings
of infinite potential
tall, proud Lady of the Woods.


Today is the first day of the Birch Moon

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