First Sunday of Lent

SILVER
SAINTS

Lavender night,
Shadows on white,

Moon way up there,
Beautiful bare...

Silver trees slick...
Straight in the thick,

Snow drifts deep cold,
Below roots take hold,

And when the tree hearkens
That lavender darkens

In Spring's purple torment
The roots remain dormant,

As silver trees bend,
While the wet winds descend

Silver roots in truth old
Breed the trees bearing gold.