Winter's Breath

Inhaling a breath, the wind freezes

with a chill that shakes its bones.

Surveying the land, its eyes water,

as they rest upon the tree of ash.

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A tree so aged and truly majestic,

its wisdom gleaming across the land.

Weathered by many a cold winter

and the unrelenting storms of loggers.

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With breath so slight, the ash does toss

and turn amidst a very fretful sleep.

Uninhabited, its bare branches stretch,

towards the earth of its nightmares.

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Time ticks rapidly across ash roots,

beaten by savage, wielded axes.

With rattling breath, the ash shudders,

screaming shrilly upon awakening.

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In response, the wind begins to cry,

as its heart feels deep remorse.

Drip, drip, its rain drums a beat,

a rythm of life for the tired ash.

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Shaking its branches, the ash does fell,

its last yellow and golden leaves.

Floating through the air, they drop,

landing on the steep, winding path.

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Footprints leave their rude mark,

embedded in the wet, muddy dirt.

The stumbling prints of flustered men,

who could not log the very strong ash.

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Snap! Snap! Heavy feet do tread again,

booted and ready to strike the earth.

Closing its eyes to the pending storm,

the ash retreats into its deep soul.

-

Exhaling its cold winter's breath,

the wind circles the fighting tree.

Embracing ash trunk with a cold frost,

it shields it with a haze of protection.

-

Soon the torch lights begin to glow,

amidst the darkening blue grey sky.

Confused voices scatter the earth,

in search of the very tall, strong ash.

-

Surrounded by a winter's breath,

the ash indulges wind's embrace.

The voices of men a now distant echo,

gifting it another winter to weather.