I felt her presence overhead
And felt her twisted limbs reach out
Just as the sky was turning red.
She enfolded memories
Of climbing feet and old rope swing,
Of dried birds nests and shadow leaves
And gentle days of early spring.
Though winter held her in its grasp
And silence wrapped her in its shroud,
As night retreated into day
She held herself erect and proud.
© 2010 Pam H. Murray
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