Currently I do not know who wrote this verse of a certain poem but am looking it up as you read this. Please, if you have any idea, notify me in my message board. “When I see birches bend to left and right / Across the lines of straighter darker trees, / I like to think some boy’s been swinging them. / But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay / As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them / Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning.”
