Green trees instead of a blanket of white

Image found at Dad's Images
I was thinking about the poem "Trees" today. In mid-January in the north east, it becomes more and more difficult to remember the green of grass and trees. Everything here is encased in a hardened shell of ice and snow. I think reading poems is one way of melting away the bleakness of winter, and this is one of my favorites.

Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918

119. Trees

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, 5
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain. 10

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

I'm praying for some sunshine to warm up the trees on my street.