The wind whispers and the
Trees let loose their
Gowns
Dancing naked in the chill
Waiting for their cloaks of snow
Their bark is bold and firm
Roughly hewn in texture
Tattooed patterns of the past
Etched into superficial
Markings of their growth
At their feet in golds and reds and orange
Spill the fabrics of the summer
With branches ready
Reaching
They will move to winter’s tempo
Be it soft, and slow, and snowy
Or in waves, and sheets of sleet
In the deepest cold and rain
Incased in icy sheaths
The trees will dream of spring
Dream of spring
Of rising greens and budding leaves
Of dresses full and twirling
In the warm winds of the hopeful
Buoyancy of summer
tis lovely