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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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