It’s there!
Adorning the door
With its remnants of years,
Showing the ice and snow
A flicker of warmth
Borne of its aging boughs,
Letting its dry needles
Bless the firmament
Where they fall,
A dash of dignity
Never deserting their purpose,
Their having been part
Of a fullness
That will never let go
No matter how far their needles scatter
In the winter wind.
Check writes from North Wildwood.
