As I walked
one golden autumn morn,
I came upon
three birches joined
at the base,
three sisters joined
at the roots.

One was white
and greeny-gold,
her leaves had
not yet turned.

One was white
and pure alloy,
her leaves shone
in the diffused light.

One was white
with branches bare,
her leaves had
fallen to earth.

Maiden, Mother, Crone,
three birches stood,
with dark roots
and bright crowns