Trees in Winter's Land

Trees in winter's land,

Cold in both my hands.

Narrow spines of oak,

Giving up their coat.

Turning over night,

Before winter's spite.

Leaving on the floor;

A bed made after war.

Heavy pretty flakes,

Freeze over the lake.

In sky's avalanche,

Stands clear every branch.

Sticks in winter air;

Nothing left to wear,

Cold and fixed they stand,

Trees in winter's land.

Photo by photo nic