Winter’s white fingers
reach for Spring.
As transient as the dawn
snow blossoms hold onto the branch
with the power of a wish.
In a topsy turvy world
roots masquerade as branches
and delight in out foxing foxes
The pine never complains
about the weight of the burden
it is asked to carry.
against the silver backdrop of bare branches
weeds and leaves
are the warp and woof of the landscape
through blue sky and clouds
to touch the heavens.
A web of branches
catches the pinecone
just before its snowy landing.
These trees wear their limbs
like curly haired twins.
A lace of branches
across the painted sky
the world is dressed up
and waiting for time to pass by.
Black branches against brilliant blue
whispers of clouds wandering by
Nature traced the line of every branch and limb.
She favors highlights in white.
The branches wear snow caps,
fluffy hats of cotton white,
at the behest of old man winter.
Naked branches await
their winter coats of white.
In the morning, beneath your canopy the whole world glows a growing green.
If I started to climb your branches now, by midnight I could touch the stars.