Sway in the wind so mysteriously.
Night tints it black against the skies.
So dark and silent as if it dies.
But no, against the winter cold it sleeps.
A sliver of life in it's core it keeps.
So that when the spring rains fall down.
And the sun begins to warm the ground.
That life inside spills out again.
Bringing back the glory there once had been.
Green life radiates from every limb.
Far forgotten those nights so grim.
