Season’s Spell
© Kathrine Horhay
Leafless branches; stark against blue;
Dormant and waiting, the trunk's a dark hue,
Bark all closed off, not wasting heat
Roots search frozen ground for something to eat.
Up comes a wind, graciously warm,
Soil unclenches its hard, molded grasp,
Old roots finally can change their form,
New buds shoot out like a long-held-in gasp.
Leaves keep growing, young branch sprouts start,
Only sky seen is when canopy parts,
Bug on a leaf – now a bird's bite,
Tree photosynthesizes the gold sunlight.
A chill creeps in, green turns to gold,
The last Barred owl hoots its last “who”,
As down fall the leaves that now have grown old,
Leafless branches; stark against blue.
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