Tree's

I don’t know why, but I love the trees  
When their leaves have all departed,  
Their bare branches, reaching,  
Speak more to me than the
green that was once was established.  
 
I’m here to plant a seed,  
Though its roots may never take,  
The seed must choose to grow or fade,  
As the trees choose when to break.  
 
In winter, they surrender,  
Only to awaken with the spring,  
So many trees out here today  
stand without leaves—  
How beautiful is their quiet contribution.
 
NP