Young man, old man

in February’s frozen spring
i came across a curious thing
a solitary sapling in the sun

it looked as if ’twere shivering
with papered leaves a-quivering
and the wind imparted voices to each one

i thought its spindly arms were bare
until i heard the chattering there
and spied the little curlicues of brown

and thought so many made it through
the winter’s blast, the icy blue
and held on fast, to make their chittering sound


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