Amber on the Cedar
Pressed flat against the furrowed bark,
A golden frond outlives the green;
A lace of amber in the dark,
Where summer’s shadow once had been.
Pressed flat against the furrowed bark,
A golden frond outlives the green;
A lace of amber in the dark,
Where summer’s shadow once had been.
A sudden blaze against the chill,
Too bright for quiet wood to hold;
The crown ignites upon the hill
In sweet confection, green and gold.