Lent is a tree
without blossom, without leaf,
Barer than
blackthorn in its winter sleep,
All
unadorned. Unlike Christmas which decrees
The setting-up,
the dressing-up of trees,
Lent is a taking
down, a stripping bare,
A starkness after
all has been withdrawn
Of surplus and
superfluous,
Leaving no hiding
place, only an emptiness
Between black
branches, a most precious space
Before the leaf,
before the time of flowers;
Lest we should
see only the leaf, the flower,
Lest we should
miss the stars.
Jean M. Watt
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