Winter Trees

I love to see the winter trees

Their twisted boughs and bony knees

Contorted knuckles, warted bark

The lichens staining limbs so stark

If they could speak, a tale they’d tell

Of suffering through winter’s hell

 

I love the springtime’s bursting bowers

The tents of green and palest flowers

Cascading from proud straining limbs

While sheltering from Zephyr’s whims

If they could sing, a lullaby

Would soothe the lambs as they pass by

 

I love the summer’s burgeoned boughs

Providing shade for we who drowse

In languid state, nowhere to be

Save prone, in Nature’s reverie

If they could hum, a madrigal

Would hold the sleepers in their thrall

 

I love the autumn’s wild cascades

The fiery golds and marmalades

That crunch beneath our tramping toes

The scent of wood fires in our nose

If they could whistle, poignantly

They’d warn of winter’s coming spree

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