THE TREE

The Tree (by Sara Teasdale1884-1933)

Oh to be free of myself

With nothing left to remember

To have my heart as bare

As tree in December

Resting, as a tree rests

After its leaves are gone

Waiting no more for a rain at night

Nor for the red at dawn;

But still, oh so still

While the winds come and go

With no more fear of the hard frost

Or the bright burden of snow;And heedless, heedless

If anyone pass and see On the white page of the sky....

Its thin tracery...........

Photographs 2021