Cold gray days, and green trees
wear the newly fallen snow;
they make a deeper silence
as they muffle roars to whispers.
Sentinels of a boundless season, they stand
wrapped in today's fresh quilt,
bowing with accustomed grace
under weight of new crowned beauty.
I hear the groan of tangled roots
the grudging rub of cross-leaned trunks
re-assembling the order
agreed so long ago
with the flat face of the tilted sun
and harsh and testing winds.
Here among winter's green
embraced by the warmth it needs
to freeze but a little
there is peace and vapor breath.
As if all of the animals know
each day we climb the ladder
to greater light and warmth.
Today, we tread upon earth's sweet sleep
beneath its soft, white blanket.
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