In the winter, trees stand both bare and bleak,
A chirping bird is silenced, itself lame
Ugly and barren for all who dare seek
No one is present to conceal its shame;
People pass and speak not, nor do they try
They barely take the time to spare a glance;
Chill is in the air, and the branches dry
Their shriveled leaves fall down in swirling dance;
Yet dark trees stand against milky grey sky
Standing firm and tall, with bark thick and vined;
Artistic in its movement, given eye
With nature we are forever entwined;
The trees extend their spindly arms upwards
For change is constant, and always onwards
