stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19812
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2019-02-27 12:42:53
    [post_date_gmt] => 2019-02-27 12:42:53
    [post_content] => In time, leaves fall to become wings. Owls
leave hunting for winter.

Tree branches cocked in mid-air like flags;
the December snow envelopes them like air
— like breath — both visible and invisible.

Children, in the now lost leafshade build
a snowman, with twigs for hands, borrowed
from a white tree.

Someone in the distance brings a fir
to decorate their home for Christmas,
thinking of the spring to come.

Someone else brings faerie lights for
the streets.

The children look at them … smile!

When Christmas is over, there will still be
snowmen, in courtyards, for weeks, under
the invisible shadows of the white trees.

There will be so many names to call:
Holly, Juniper, Maple, Rowan.

In India, they’re unnaming and renaming
so many things, when (if) they ask you,
what will you call this white tree?
    [post_title] => The White Trees
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => the-white-trees
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2019-04-16 16:42:43
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2019-04-16 16:42:43
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=19812
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2019
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in the tree poetry challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN).
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, Tree challenge
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 19733
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Jayant Kashyap
            [slug] => jayant-kashyap
            [content] => Jayant is commended in the tree poetry challenge on Young Poets Network and the third-prize winner in the Bletchley Park challenge.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19733
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Jayant Kashyap
    [slug] => jayant-kashyap
    [content] => Jayant is commended in the tree poetry challenge on Young Poets Network and the third-prize winner in the Bletchley Park challenge.
)

The White Trees

Jayant Kashyap

In time, leaves fall to become wings. Owls
leave hunting for winter.

Tree branches cocked in mid-air like flags;
the December snow envelopes them like air
— like breath — both visible and invisible.

Children, in the now lost leafshade build
a snowman, with twigs for hands, borrowed
from a white tree.

Someone in the distance brings a fir
to decorate their home for Christmas,
thinking of the spring to come.

Someone else brings faerie lights for
the streets.

The children look at them … smile!

When Christmas is over, there will still be
snowmen, in courtyards, for weeks, under
the invisible shadows of the white trees.

There will be so many names to call:
Holly, Juniper, Maple, Rowan.

In India, they’re unnaming and renaming
so many things, when (if) they ask you,
what will you call this white tree?