Branches naked against skies of blue,
Skeletons all, with summer gone,
Stark and rigid, in morbid hue,
Oh, so sad now, to look upon.
Festive trees no longer seen,
Nothing softening to the eye,
Only memories of what has been,
Now the leaves have said 'goodbye'.
But once the spring comes into view,
These skeletons will live and thrive,
Those spreading arms will be clothed anew,
And once again become alive.
New buds will sprout from boughs so bare,
And will in time, exposed limbs, disguise,
Then a glorious show, nothing will compare,
With this vision of green, against clear blue skies.
©   Ernestine Northover