Winter Poetry

There's poetry in trees, I think, and know it's been said before.
Especially those often seen in urban areas,  - bare, unlovely, 

Stuck between curb and sidewalk, growing from cracked concrete,
They soften the hard-edged parking lot, - spring up to break sterile cement.

I like to point out small vistas
where man's work lives in concert with nature's forms. here, concrete framed by soft foliage in summer, accented by stiff sticks and twigs when winter claims the world.


A cool quiet morning, today, -
 sun is warming the wall.

"a poem as lovely as a tree"

 ... or the other way 'round,

.... unlovely tree.

  I like that!

           "The simplest things are often the truest." Richard Bach