The Poplars in Winter

December 8, 2014

The Poplars in Winter

The poplars in winter in my backyard

Are bare and black, wind-tossed and limb-scarred.

The gusts from the coast make their limbs to sway,

And the twigs wave and tremble throughout night and day.

The glorious leaves that took so long to come

Have fallen to earth or flown to new homes.

The bright poplar flowers in dazzling burnt-orange

Turned into dry pods which soon their seeds purged.

These, too, have fallen among the dry leaves

And the blades of brown grass in waiting for Spring.

No snow in this climate will bury the trunk,

Or collect on the limbs where the summer squirrels slunk.

Though bleak, and some sadness enshrouds this chilled scene,

At the base of the poplars protrude fronds of green.

Like the grass, these are waiting for Spring’s smiling warmth

And preparing for such, stretch out their sweet arms.

The cold and the chill are nothing to these

And, simply, they serve to give cheer to the trees.

‘Though the winter is here with its overcast days,

All nature each season inspires us to praise!