January MornBare branches of each tree
On this chilly January morn
Look so cold, so forlorn.
Grey skies dip ever so low
Left from yesterday's dusting of snow.
Yet in the heart of each tree
Waiting for each who wait to see
New life as warm sun and breeze will blow,
Like magic, unlock spring sap to flow,
Buds, leaves, then blooms will grow.
Nelda Hartman
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