Winter is Not Destitute

It disturbed the surface of your atmosphere,

Made you rigid like earth’s composite ground.

Frail and sunken it made your fingertips,

Tight to bone they were strangled and bound.


In front of our eyes the palette chosen was neutral,

Yet no sorrow saw the grays and whites.

Strong branches fall under the weight of snow.

Dead trunks surrender to animals, burrowed safe now--no fights.


You tell me you’re empty yet that’s not what I see.

That fiery passion of yours burned you so.

As a human, of course, you see death as the end,

But I see your hollow has become a new home.


The curl of your back parallels the hunch of these woods. 

You gaze out while we gaze at you.

Grieve with the trees, they understand how to cope.

Believe me and move past this emotion blue.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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