O winter tree,
on a cold Tuesday,
your whiskers bristling
at gray dawn.
I care so little
for your green leaves lost;
you, for my spirit’s frost—
yet He—infinitely.
About the author
O winter tree,
on a cold Tuesday,
your whiskers bristling
at gray dawn.
I care so little
for your green leaves lost;
you, for my spirit’s frost—
yet He—infinitely.
