bare crooked seasons

the thing about winter

is not the cold but the bare

brave beauty that comes

from the letting go

of brown dead detritus

–a big word for the lost–

determined to resurrect life from the dark.

Shine, then, crooked

branches, reaching sunward with hope

always of spring,

and unafraid of the changing

seasons.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.