Resurrection’s Song

The cold air undressed you
Left you bare, exposed to the freezing rain and blistering wind of December
And in the distance a train whistle blows
Usually muted by the canopy of leaves draped around you like grandma’s afghan
Her chimes hang from your lowest branch
They dance and sing stirring memories pushed down deep
As deep as the roots holding you steady
Until spring resurrects you
And blooms adore your boughs.

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