February
Lone zombie-tree in the pasture sings
Lullaby for the cows gathered round,
Metal sky sprinkle ice seeds over the dry
Weeds asleep, whispers:
“In spring this will do wonder.”
North wind claws at the hunched
Backs of the creatures
Learning to take the most of
One another’s body heat like
Warmth of Mother’s womb.
She throws her toughest test.
With no complain,
They huddle tight
To keep the hearth within,
Comply and wait
For the golden sunbeams
Caress the frozen bodies,
For the pasture awake in the green sea,
For the tree revives in pink bloom
Flirts with breeze sweet passing by.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 
Charming!
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Such strength in the writing, Byung
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Thank you so much, Derrick.
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Thank you much, Sheree.
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This poem makes me long for those days I lived in winter climes. Love the zombie-tree. Beauty in lack and longing.
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Thanks so much for sharing your feelings.
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