Winter - the season when trees dare
to bare their branches to the elements
outstrip each other in their nakedness.
Gone are the colors of autumn in disarray
leaves have long since withered and died,
in their stead are pristine prisms of icicles.
Trees lining a road eerie and white in snow
branches stretched out like skeletal limbs
snowflakes dazzle by the glow of moon and stars.
Shadows deepen to impenetrable ink
as blackness swallows up the night
leaving trees stark and desolate
Morning comes, bony tree branches
thrust bold and sultry towards the sun
the gift of privacy is not their luxury.
I don't want to invade this intimate scene
nature's gift is like sharp, sweet wine
I drink in it, restoring peace to my soul.