Winter Oaks

The undressed oaks of winter

Stretch their fingers to the sky,

Contemplating autumn's end

And sharing silent wintry cries.

Brown leaves have faded to the ground

And back again to dust,

Breaking underneath my feet

Under the frosty crust.

They stand helpless in the bitter cold,

Some bent from ancient storms,

Keeping watch in winter's twilight,

These magestic, dormant forms.

Like the oaks, I now abide

In a haunting, cold embrace.

I, also, long for spring to come

And show its warm, bright face.

Wolfycat

1/3/08