An ivy-tendril climbing a wall
felt the dust and waited for berries,
and while waiting its soul was refreshed
by the idle clamour of the lost snowflake…

Gentle snow, fall through the ivy!
But there is no ivy.

The front of the college I attended was covered with ivy. I’m wondering now if it was Boston Ivy or woodbine, that loses its leaves, and if I wrote this while it was waiting for its renewal, so to speak, and I to come into leaf at all.

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