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There Are Trees


There are trees that stand tall,
stripped.
Their last leaf fallen by December's breath.
Their barren form belying a vital depth.
Daily I see then under gray canopy,
stirring echoes of what was, what can be.
Their daylong silhouettes bare a grace
unnoticed in the chill of Winter.
Sad but proud,
longing and hopeful,
these bare creatures have not forgotten
the return of the Sun.


--  Anthony V., Adult