Albert Timper


The Dance


There is a dance growing on the forest floor,

A hemlock and yellow birch entangled ever-more,

Their embrace is straight and strong to the core,

A leaning basswood is cutting in but will not score,

A blanket of snow silhouettes their steps rooted fore,

The dance season will change to coalesce once more.

Submitted: Monday, August 25, 2014

Topic of this poem: dance

Form:


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