Sometimes, I feel like those trees:
Naked, exposed, stripped of those leaves,
rooted to the dawning Spring’s thawing soil,
held up toward the blue and blue and blue sky.
held up so long
that the tips have been bleached by the elements.
And sometimes this waiting is all that I can do.
Sometimes knowing that Winter is over,
it’s hard to really believe
Sometimes knowing that Winter is over
is all that keeps me going.
Sometimes, despite this doubt.
The truth is also undeniable.