I want to be a Lady of the Sycamore
white and luminous in winter
serene among brown fields
branches misshapen into beauteous forms
unshaken against the wind
Let my ashes rest under the Sycamore
at the eastern gate of heaven
sun's first rays
greeting my earthly remains
warming the dark dust
beneath its opulent arms
A Sycamore in winter
white and luminous
offering sustenance to the dead
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