Larch

Other needled trees

hold tight to their finery

when winter comes. And we,

to ward off bleak times, bring them in

and decorate their ever green boughs;

with lights and tinsel; fripperies.

But you, relinquish your green cloak.

Stripped bare, humbled and vulnerable you stand

before your maker, as we must all

in the end.

He knows your frailty well

who once, like you, shed all comfort,

all knowledge, all divine power and lay

unprotected in human skin.

He knows your shame,

who once was stripped,

humiliated; limbs outstretched like yours.

Yet, having endured the worst we could inflict

would rise in final glory.

Though naked now, you will be clothed again:

the spring will come with birds to feed and sing

and life shall return and flourish in your boughs of green.

© Jo Kudlacik 31st Dec 2023