City Tree

The tree outside my house is a city tree. Not like the Pines in Maine; but this tree is strong and tall; taller than the house.

It stands solid and silent as the limbs and branches are being covered with snow that has been falling all day.

The small branches and twigs reach out like fingers searching for something in the grey day.

These fingers like branches hold piles of small snow balls, and where they separate, reaching to grow tiny patches of snow rest, to create a vision of mystery.

Strong and silent and unmoving; resting as bare winter trees do.

Waiting, just waiting for the sunshine and the green leaves to appear again.

It will be some time, but the tree will wait; as we do.