Jesse willard

Beneath a birch






Days pass and it seems all in vain
Yesterday’s innocence
Out playing in the rain
Now Persevering wincing gritting teeth
Welcome the day
Of death’s sweet release
Lie me there beneath that old birch
Up above
Where the crow doth perch
Sun through the clouds dries his wings
High above
Untouched by menial things
Sounds his call then takes flight
Beneath I’ll lie
For another lonely night

© Poetry.com