TREES IN WINTER
Trees are such pitiful things, if you see them In the half light. Helplessly waiting for someone to free them From the cold night. Pale with their shame, they stand naked and drooping Under the eye Of the pitiless stars and the avid moon stooping Out of the sky. They have no houses to ward off the dreary Darkness outside; Rooted in terror there, helpless and weary, How may they hide? If I could—if I could!—l would run to enfold them Close to my breast. Still their quivering limbs, close their eyelids, and fold them So they might rest In sleep as children, when evil dreams wake them, Curled close in the warm, Groping blind-fingered for someone to take them Out of all harm. -—Brian Hill.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19280314.2.24.18
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 303, 14 March 1928, Page 6
Word Count
129TREES IN WINTER Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 303, 14 March 1928, Page 6
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