.


Epilogue


From Acorn to Ruinous Age

Burnt wood, quenched:

Grey walls, white towers, long lives;
The depths of the earth revealed,
and they are, surprising, same as stars.

Life on life, loss on loss: doe at creek
and fawn at dusk; gold hair to white,

black hair to grey, red to a clay
that roots tendons to veins and tugs.

Years of love planted in the heart of an acorn,
tucked for a century in the pocket of your shirt,
carried, at the end of an Age, over Sea:

A young tree, reborn.


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