Gone now is the Willow Wren

- The leaves will fall to feed the ground, and in their falling, make no sound

I was thinking about our maples and their winter nakedness and my recent birthday and my husband, love that man, and in my searching for a poem for today I found this. I love the last 3 lines. I can imagine the two of us there.

Bare Trees

Quietly falling,
Painting winter’s captives
Bare trees sleep shimmering
Beneath ice and mist.
In the frigid air your breath scrolls
A pattern from gently spoken words
The cold wind has kissed.
We follow the Trail
Passed the sleeping orchard,
Recounting old stories
Like a well read book.
Your warm hand outstretched
To help steady my step
From faltering on
The frozen path we took.
The hour’s a guess, but it doesn’t matter.
So much to remember, too many years gone.
We’re like two bare trees,
Dusted white, and laughing,
Winter’s happy captives, content to walk on.