standing in my yard

a child

 small among the birch trees

i would slowly peel away the bark

creating the most delicate pieces of beautiful paper

a gift from the tree

uncurled and waiting to be my papyrus.

 

—

“out of sight above the house, the mirror moon reflected the sun of a day not yet dawned,

shining the pale light of tomorrow on the yard and on the paper birches.”

 -dean koontz

 

 

 

—

image credit: white birch fragrance oil