Beneath white skies of somber gray,
A lone tree stands bare,
A stark profile against the day,
A silent night witness to despair.

No leaves to dance in the sunlit breeze,
No jingles of bells to fill the air,
Just barren stalks, like skeletal trees,
A condition of the season laid bare.

The cold howls through,
a gloomy tune, a withered site,
As the green ground itself objects to
the bleak that has eaten...