This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.
Trees
We are past the Christmas trees, in their wide windows
hung with lights, like fruit. They shine all day.
We have watched the fields, where the moon is rising:
smudged, solemn mouth. Above us, white stars grow:
huge and bare, spread over earth:
a tree of light, a tree of snow.
...
hung with lights, like fruit. They shine all day.
We have watched the fields, where the moon is rising:
smudged, solemn mouth. Above us, white stars grow:
huge and bare, spread over earth:
a tree of light, a tree of snow.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue':
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 289 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews,
why not subscribe to the website today?