This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 3 Number 3, 1974.
Three PoemsTHE TREE
This child, shovelling away
what remains of snow -
a batter of ash and crystals -
knows nothing of the pattern
his bent back lifts
above his own reflection:
it climbs the street-lamp's stem
and cross-bar, branching
to take in all the lines
from gutter, gable, slates
and chimney-crowns to the high
pillar of a mill chimney
on a colourless damp sky:
there in its topmost air
and eyrie rears that tree
his bending sends up
...
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