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THE WINTER TREE
Like a religion
The winter tree
Reaches toward the sky.
In bitter wind,
In frigid air,
In raging blizzard,
It strives for the ideal,
Mutely
Concealing the racking cough,
Smothering it within.
Undaunted
The winter tree
Reaches toward the sky.
Inward, inward,
It widens its sky,
Refines the green,
Clasping to its bosom
Ever-wakeful dreams of a
Pellucid eternity, ceaselessly.
Like its own religion
The winter tree
Reaches toward its sky.
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