The Winter Tree


Poetry by Markus Hamence – Wednesday 19 June 2024

In the heart of winter, where mist does linger,
Stands an old tree with limbs like fingers.
Its leaves, once emerald, now a fiery array,
Dance in the breeze, bidding autumn farewell.

Grey hues flicker through the air,
A mosaic of pared back colours, beyond compare.
Browns, amber and hues of rust,
Each leaf a memory, from dawn to dusk.

The bark, rugged with stories untold,
Holds the weight of years, both young and old.
Branches stretch like arms in prayer,
Reaching for skies that are crisp and fair.

Dappled sunlight filters through, a gentle caress,
Casting shadows of a quiet finesse.
The ground, a carpet of winters frosty grace,
Embracing the tree in a protective embrace.

The deer and roos chatter, storing their treasures,
In this hibernating realm of winter’s pleasures.
Birds sing softly, a lullaby sweet,
Echoing the rhythm of the tree’s heartbeat.

As twilight falls and stars ignite,
The tree stands tall in the moon’s soft light.
A sentinel of time, in winter’s deep,
Guarding dreams as the world falls asleep.

In the heart of winter, where the cold does linger,
The old tree’s beauty grows even stronger.
A testament to change, to seasons’ flow,
A reminder of the cycle, in nature’s glow.

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