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naked against the sky,
How beautiful it is?
All its branches are outlined, and in its nakedness
There is a poem, there is a song.
Every leaf is gone and it is waiting for the spring.
When the spring comes, it again fills the tree with
The music of many leaves,
Which in due season fall and are blown away.
And this is the way of life.
I love to see trees lush and green in the summer or ablaze with color in the fall. But I also appreciate the naked trees of winter. There is a poem there, and a stark kind of beauty. Can you hear the song in the bare branches?