Outside
The Window,
Naked Arms akimbo,
Shorn by lightening; the tree stands alone,
Hovering in the spectral silence of the twilight,
While winter snow holding fast to scraggly skin,
Awaits the spring to clothe its shame, waiting for
The flow of life from Earth to climb upwards from
The dormant dirt to bring forth seed. The tree awaits Redemption,
Near Death,
Near Birth,
Biding time,
Until the heat
From warming sun cajoles the tree to life again.