The restless spirits long to guide

Bare Trees

Fracture lines cut in a bleak sky,
Stripped bare across the countryside,
Shadows of what they used to be,
Silhouetted so beautifully,
No more a haven to make a home,
Fragile looking veins are exposed,
Sun bleeds through while blindingly low,
Wood spirits are compelled to go,
A sight rooted in these cold months,
Crafted by a cruel lack of warmth,
Weather the sky gods issue forth,
Sent to the front line from the north,
But trees fear not old man winter,
His firm grip can't last forever,
Soon things will be back as they were,
Till the changes again occur.

January 14, 2020