Winter Tree


I saw her standing bent

Upon the snow,

Shivering with each icy

Blast of wind.

Her tattered rags hung loose

Upon her form,

Remains of all her bright

And splendid robes.


She dreams of springtime’s warm

And sunny days,

When a gown of fragrant buds

Will grace her limbs.

She’ll dance with every sweet

Inviting breeze,

And sleep with nesting birds

Among her leaves.

By M.C. Pehrson