Hiding under
an uncertain show
of wintery sun
exposed veins on
trees shiver,
twigs curl inwards
for warmth
and air-awareness
vibrates in
protection against
harm to new
plantlets growing
beneath them
when winter gales
Cold sears tips of
tender fissure
and blows frozen
chills between
branching fingers
then gleefully
stalks thru' brown
treelet trunks,
plays so capricious,
uses cunning
to up-turn saplings
but they, tho'
naked try leaning
into the grip
of devilish breezes.
By working around
need for relief
woodland behaves
with dignity
not getting fraught
but counting
each blast as rated
root-testing so
digging deeper for
next onslaught
they patiently trust
that yielding
to fierce unforeseen
blusters wins.
For where
the wind blows,
on whom,
from what direction
and when,
nobody knows.
