Birch Brackets


Ah! new-born razor strop, next to the ivy-clad silver birch.


I wonder what nibbled on it? Not a holly blue's caterpillar, probably.



Stroppy Shelf Life

The dead birch trees dream of Ötzi the Iceman
and of their pale youth
when a coat of green loyal ivy
shaded them from bulbous fungi

- not a shield from whipworm, a human problem after all -

One silver birch still stands,
stretched tall to the blue sky,
snug in the coiled embrace of fruiting ivy,
alive with bumble-bees

- or are they the selfsame carpenters that drilled their brethren's polka dots? -

The winter cat awaits with polished claws
and snowy cloak, hidden in its cloudy paws.




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