this winter
has stripped her bare
this winter
has left her open
real early
this winter
wide open to the weather
wide open to everything
a distant sun
slowly touches
perennial patches
this creeping creaking winter
of slow and cold withering
faded lichens moss
the most hardy
she stands in the field
her leaves of gold
falling around her softly
half her former glory
yet so full of promise
so full of a still life
everything
every single leaf soon gone
each branch trying
to extend around
and cover
its involuntary winter nakedness
she breathes in
she breaths out
she sighs
she breathes in
she breathes out
under a canopy
greener than envy
higher than skies
and denser
than a large village full of idiots
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.” Me
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