Ground of Zero

The night rain had shorn my neighboring trees standing so stalwart in their convivial circle four. The wistful dawning be shining on skeletal shapes Hung with but scarce few yellowed-brown-sienna leaves to drape their skinny heights. For the force of Wind and Fall had stripped their grace of arms quite bare. Yet within those skeletal swaying branches, untouched by rain or snow or wind, Flows their elixir pure but awaiting the hand of Spring to fashion dress with fresh new-green attire my neighboring family four. Would such certainty had I Seeing fallen upon my treeless ground of zero pieces that once were me. Only a ‘perhaps’ have I that I and me again might see the comfort of a greening Spring, Might feel anew warmth eternal, that in a winter moment does seem so spectral faint to be.