Reset Terse Trees of Ester

Look at the straining branches

barely cradling fresh white cargo.

A few bend. Flakes breakaway in the wind

...to finally rest wedged in a snowdrift.

Envious reflections of Soracte’s slope

standing white in that far off groaning forest.

Quell Horace’s cold, let the evergreens hold.

Pines quiver as old oaks grudgingly deliver.

Piling wood on the fire generously,

time comes to know burden.

A tree can’t go back to fix or replace

branches grasp to feel a tree does not heal.

Instead it excommunicates its wounds,

sealing them off in a callus wood. In a quickened trace

every injury ever suffered remains in the tree!

The sad grey has come wafting tuscan ribollita,

choking with the heartiness one was raised on.

Words disappear among winter’s -reset -terse-trees

summoned between fingers. Sometimes a snowy mind

desires an asteroid or the butterfly, snail, and triller bird.

Unclasp this cold... mushrooms never ask about tomorrow.

Flame the embers of laughter from Lalage, the muse of -ester,

burns in the trees sorrow.

trees anagrams reset, terse, ester