Black On White, by Martha Fromson

Black on white Bare, black branches on a white, winter sky, Spelling words that I cannot read. Live sap in dead wood, Divine meaning in the mundane. The birds have flown away, but one day they will return. They have never seen winter, for they fly to

Black on white

Bare, black branches on a white, winter sky,

Spelling words

that I cannot read.

Live sap in dead wood,

Divine meaning in the mundane.

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The birds have flown away,

but one day they will return.

They have never seen winter,

for they fly to endless sring.

Do they even know from what they flee?

Is it better to endure?

Or to live in endless sunlight?

Black branches on a white sky,

Spelling a million words.

One,

for every shade of grey.

MARTHA FROMSON

Hampstead Garden Suburb

q You can submit an original poem by writing to Poetry Corner, Ham&High Series, 100a Avenue Road, Hampstead NW3 3HF, or send it by email to letters@hamhigh.co.uk.

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