Winter tree


In the dark December tree,

Black branches bare against the sky,

Cold mist clings and drips

And the last leaves flap

The heavy, brown flags

Of summer’s surrender.

In the dark tree,

Among the dead leaves,

Robin pours his winter song,

Red throat a winter bloom,

Ember of summer fire.

The leafless tree,

Claimed by the freezing mist

And bleak hand of the north,

Fills with music.

I close my eyes

And the bite of the cold

For the space of a song

Is a little less deep.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

2 thoughts on “Winter tree”

    1. Thanks Peter. I hope you have a peaceful one (unless you prefer riotous, in which case, have one of those). And if it snows, I wish you a nice hot fire and something to warm the cockles too.

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