•From the genus Betula; (Betula alba), silver birch, or lady birch
I enjoy a quacking aspen, a larch, or giants of redwood forests, thick
Yet, none I enjoy more than a Betula alba’s timeless grace; shinning silver birch, oh lady birch, fair
’Twas nightly moons gleaming-away, against magic brushes glowing amid charcoal darkness, on youthful laughs
Serenity, amongst a scurry of night creatures, fearful
A beauty of ashen light pressing growing shadows, leaning against such blackness
Light, born of hope’s prisms
Toiled, aching for freedom, arising on midnight wishes and moon beamed glories, cradling fairy-kin; white wings of lace
’Twas magic, hiding in sacred sediment, birthed on light of moons; silvery lady birch, fair
Silvery fairy-kin, fly like darting stars
Thus, we wish upon
In dreams, blue and silvery, in magic sprung on hope’s endless stories
A moon’s dream, like silver doves fanning skies
Dreaming magic
Riding on God’s warm breath as morning rushes of lavender sail winds, perfuming
’Twas magic, hidden all around us and inside, in nightfall, in dreams, on fairy wings, in the skins of old birch trees; she, a lady fair, cradled in Mother Earth’s longing embrace
Her secrets sway, as silvery threads woven by her magic imprint on Earth and Sky, embodying sweet melodies and promenades, silent
May we listen, with each of our senses; with each perception’s sweet embrace