During shorter days,
my eyes don’t have to strain
to find a forest green.
Without its leaves, it stays

a yellow-green and faint,
but vibrant in the rain.
The wet wood wears a sheen—
like iridescent paint

was brushed along its bark.
Cold trees seem bare and plain,
but life holds firm between
the short days and the dark.

When little else survives,
the living green remain.
They simply can’t be seen
when leaves disguise their lives.