The Branches

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

Jean Valentine The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.