This poem was written around 1991 and I believe is previously unpublished.
Birch Trees
Against a sky of blue or cloudy grey
Whatever the day, pale and slender boughs,
Like early summer nudes, exposed through
Frondle trails of leafy green, slightly
Bend and sway, while bushy heady tops
Are tingle-teased by a fresh spring
Early morning breeze.
Arched, white spine straining. Young stripling
Stems stretched out like yesterday’s abandoned
Streamers. Fledgling leaves ripped, stripped
From life, lost and tossed aside without
apparent rhyme or reason unless, perhaps?
A wild futile gesture of appeasement, against
This heedless, needless rampaging.
Tall white masts lying at anchor
On a neap tide of evening sylphid mist.
Faded russet topsails shrouded in calm.
The hold laden with silence and a
Nostalgic late autumn balm. While over
The horizon the first grey mast of winter
Waits patiently to cross the bar.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Note: The ‘s’ at the end of the word ‘waits’ in the last line is my addition and did not appear in Jack’s original. It may have been a typing error. I could have just as easily added it to the word ‘mast’ in the penultimate line instead but it seemed to me to be a better fit here.
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