Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

The tree in Winter

Its life-trail etched against the sky

reveals what we cannot

Who stand below and try

—

To see within

How we became this shape

This pattern in the now

And asking how

—

Did we result in this?

Our branching tale of history

Concealed in layered thoughts

And wrapped in finery

—-

We would

Be dead and left to rot

So naked in the winter wind

Yet she is not

---

©Stephen Tanham