The Birch blooms in winter;
some say it blooms
in Autumn with golden leaves
     but don't be fooled.
It's against the gray
backdrop of December,
January and February
that the birch earns
its own bright white.

Not the same shade
of fickle snow; — pretty
while it falls, preening
its delicate feature; —
     seduced by asphalt and mud.

Yes, the cheap snowflake
believes the gaping
mouth of earth;
     the thrust-out tongues
of children. (What's
more flattering
than being wanted by
     a mouth that waters?)

And those silly  flakes
     self absorb;

while the birch,
holds its trunk straight
basking in whiteness
     among a million deaths.