These ancient trees laden with snow now stand
Somber, biding, locked in their ice-frost chains;
Sad vestiges of that which once stood grand—
Proud chieftains past of verdant rich domains.
There shackled fast by manacles of white,
Fierce flayed and scourged by bitter icy winds,
Shoulder to shoulder their stance remains upright
Though to the worst of force, they bow and bend.
Yet life prevails and buried hope renews,
The deepest dark of night heralds the dawn
And though oppressed of burdens so accrued,
They bear life’s savagery and soldier on;
Staunch sentinels that stand against all odds
Because or yet in spite of austere gods.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.