the dusty road
dusk a hush of rust and gold
the evergreens have no leaves
tho something up their sleeves
to pine away the time
tied up in knots
the needles taught and slim
to let the wind blow in
the earth lay at their root
as owls lay awake and hoot
crest fallen they regroup
to feel a chill so soon
before the sting of winter
when the sun will cool
sunlight on the rocks
cold as ice would freeze
the warmest heart
still in the chill of darkness
life is formidable at best
for the creatures in their nest
as a biting wind will break
the bough
and hinder in winter
takes a final bow
fallow soil
like furrows in the ground
another thing
to wait in the wings
a harmony of strings
an opus
for the closeness
of spring.