... And I remember the tree on that dark night, in deep black, backlit by lamplight, quiet tableau. And in the middle, I and the tree, alone in chill air, we stood— at the end of the block, the beginning of it, and I, looking at the leaves, fire and gold blazing there, in the cool silence of my night, leaves like streaks of glass, blazing. Fire and gold mixed with honey, it stood, solid, held in song. My tree, jeweled—alight. ... Bracha K. Sharp was published in the American Poetry Review, the Birmingham Arts Journal, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Wild Roof Journal, Rogue Agent Journal, and the Thimble Literary Magazine, among others. She placed first in the national Hackney Literary Awards and was a finalist in the New Millennium Writings Poetry Awards. She received a 2019 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards Silver Medal for her debut picture book. As her writing notebooks seem to end up finding their way into different rooms, she is always finding both old pieces to revi...