In winter, the trees stretch their branches,
Windbent and arthritic,
Naked on the periphery,
In parks or placed on streets.
To put one’s finger on it is difficult.
I’m convinced of its importance
Even though there’s nothing
Gathered on the snowy ground.
The trees remind us of something
Only when our eyes are closed.
I have held that day in mind.
I have walked the park for many winters,
The reflection of pavement and traffic
Waiting to be worn.
Buried in a drift. That’s how it feels.
An absence of summer heat.
A concrete urn, a jewel
Exposed for what they are.
In winter, the trees reveal themselves
Awakened by the sun.
In winter, the trees stretch their branches.
Naked and windbent.
Arthritic and exposed.
I have held that day in mind,
A jewel waiting to be worn.
On the periphery in winter,
The trees reveal themselves for what they are.
The reflection of pavement and traffic.
A concrete urn containing nothing.
But the trees remind us of something.
We find them in parks or placed on streets.
To put one’s finger on it is difficult.
That’s how it feels
When our eyes are closed.
I have walked the park for many winters.
Once, I was awakened by the sun
Gathered on the snowy ground.
It looked like summer heat.
The urn was buried in a drift.
I’m convinced of its importance.
In winter, the trees stretch their branches.
I have walked the park for many winters.
Arthritic and windbent.
Naked and exposed.
That’s how it feels.
The sun waiting to be worn.
Our eyes are closed and we see nothing.
We bare ourselves in summer heat,
But in winter, the trees reveal themselves
Gathered on the snowy ground.
We find them in parks or placed on streets.
The trees, too, remind us of something
Standing on the periphery.
A jewel buried in a drift,
A concrete urn
Awakened by the sun.
To put one’s finger on it is difficult.
I’m convinced of its importance,
The reflection of pavement and traffic.
I have held that day in mind.
Windbent and arthritic,
Naked on the periphery,
In parks or placed on streets.
To put one’s finger on it is difficult.
I’m convinced of its importance
Even though there’s nothing
Gathered on the snowy ground.
The trees remind us of something
Only when our eyes are closed.
I have held that day in mind.
I have walked the park for many winters,
The reflection of pavement and traffic
Waiting to be worn.
Buried in a drift. That’s how it feels.
An absence of summer heat.
A concrete urn, a jewel
Exposed for what they are.
In winter, the trees reveal themselves
Awakened by the sun.
In winter, the trees stretch their branches.
Naked and windbent.
Arthritic and exposed.
I have held that day in mind,
A jewel waiting to be worn.
On the periphery in winter,
The trees reveal themselves for what they are.
The reflection of pavement and traffic.
A concrete urn containing nothing.
But the trees remind us of something.
We find them in parks or placed on streets.
To put one’s finger on it is difficult.
That’s how it feels
When our eyes are closed.
I have walked the park for many winters.
Once, I was awakened by the sun
Gathered on the snowy ground.
It looked like summer heat.
The urn was buried in a drift.
I’m convinced of its importance.
In winter, the trees stretch their branches.
I have walked the park for many winters.
Arthritic and windbent.
Naked and exposed.
That’s how it feels.
The sun waiting to be worn.
Our eyes are closed and we see nothing.
We bare ourselves in summer heat,
But in winter, the trees reveal themselves
Gathered on the snowy ground.
We find them in parks or placed on streets.
The trees, too, remind us of something
Standing on the periphery.
A jewel buried in a drift,
A concrete urn
Awakened by the sun.
To put one’s finger on it is difficult.
I’m convinced of its importance,
The reflection of pavement and traffic.
I have held that day in mind.
