another winter's come, the trees lay bare,
mere skeletons, stiff standing, 'pon the ground,
like you, protruding from the mind, no sound,
a quiet remnant, gone, but always there,

the trees wait patiently for that one day,
when life returns to every waiting thing,
I, too, await the Day of mankind's Spring,
when you'll return from where you've gone away.

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos