Waiting on the Warm

The frigid sun crept slowly

straining to peek from behind

a steel blue wall of cloud;

a giant menacing wave on the horizon

Madrones, flexing bare muscles

stand upright in banks of snow

wooden bodies trembling

beneath waxy leaves

dangling delicate as the wind blows

like mute chimes beckoning

the sympathy of Spring

when the fruits return

and there is sweetness in everything

Until then they hibernate

beneath arctic skies of gray

where the snowplow pushed its way

piling icy drifts onto the curb

The Madrones dream of summer past

They dream of melting ice

and flowing waters warm,

standing, stalwart, in the frost

muscular arms in testimony

of what once was and what is lost

Oh, the world must turn

and seasons change after the storm

and until then, they sleep

shivering in the struggling dawn

dreaming cold and deep

waiting on the warm