Winter's wrath was hungry, and
Stripped the foliage bare,
One hundred twenty days of cold
hung sparkles in the air.
The oak trees stood relentless
bending in the winter storm,
Reaching up with aching arms
trying to get warm.
Often, in their nakedness, they
clattered out a moan
Cold and snow arrived again
Amidst old winter's groan.
The sunset sun seemed weakened,
no light or warmth to spare.
Crystal moonlight garnered stars
like glitter in a prom queen's hair.
Moonbeams softened crookedness
Shadows curved on blue-white snow.
Amidst the wings of a snowy owl
Spring whispered, "Wintertime must go."
The sunrise heard the whispered words
And warmed the winter morn.
There at the edge of winter's grasp
Spring flowers were reborn.