Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes
with the edge of winter sky
leaning over us in icy stars.
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.
From: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/238500
Date: 2003
By: Annie Finch (1956- )
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