Season

Standing alone, naked. Winters discontent beckons. Crooked branches call it to rest, Enticing it upon its empty bough. Colourful hues no longer flitter. No more sultry dances on a warm summers eve. Leaves stripped. Empty. Obsolete. It's silver shimmered coat marred and muted by dark and cloud. Ice cold infiltration seeps slowly into its roots, it's drip fed quench sustains whilst its body braces for the onslaught of a harsher clime. Its majesty will return its former glory, Microscopic magic multiplies beneath soft white blankets and new life stretches outward toward the light. Shards of dazzle and shine penetrate, where only darkness has prevailed. Branches spring as its heavy burden descends . A blanket of colour, pine moss and fern graces it's presence, delighted to dance once again. It will soon sway and twirl, hush and roar. Chirping and chatter replace the sound of silence, a hive of life returns to the fold. No emptiness on it's cradled arms As dawn breaks its new chorus. Npage @2021