You stand there naked on the hill
Like an appointed sentinel,
Bereft of all your summer glory,
Your limbs outstretched against the sky,
and silently watch the world go by.
Do you shiver in the chill?
Do you utter the smallest sound
When the frost blankets the ground
And the snow begins to thaw –
Do your roots get cold and sore?
Do you long for the return of spring,
For sunny days and balmy nights,
When children climb your leafy boughs
And raucous rooks perch way up high
To view the landscape beneath the sky?
Image: Willdoo_photobucket.com & Aubreyknight_photobucket.com
©DGA 26.06.2011 07:14