A love poem for our weeping birch tree, its lovely drooping arms, and majestic white trunk--the kind that invites carved initials (though none ever were).

I hope the Diatelle form lends the beauty I tried to convey without seeming too forced. My mom is closing on her home next week. Now new owners can make memories with that beautiful front yard birch tree, with a life span of 50 years. 11 to go!

The syllable count is: 1-2-3-4-6-8-10-12-10-8-6-4-3-2-1
The rhyme pattern is: abbcbccaccbcbba.

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