I saw him there, standing alone and gray
His stark arms drooping to his sides, though he stood straight and solid
All his gildings and beauty lay brown and dead
He carried the abuse every cold day
Weeks began and left with nary a pause
White cold weighed him down, its breath freezing his limbs
He would not break, waiting for the season’s change
He would resist hopelessness despite its draw
Months passed, the cold ceased, bringing hope at last
He drew strength, raising his arms, and sighed in peace
Green clothed his arms and new life blossomed from him
He reached for the sky, glad that winter had passed
