Trees stand in solemn row
Stalwartly on the horizon
Limbs and branches and twigs forming lace edging
A barrier between grey white sky
And snow covered fields

And the old, lone meadow tree
Thick trunk belying years of vigor
Now bare-branched and black
Still endures, roots deep in the earth
Proof to the young trees
That strength comes with age
Holding generations of memories and stories
Flocks and herds and parties now forgotten
By all but the lone meadow tree
Waiting, waiting
For spring