Winter Branches

By John I. Blair

As I gaze out the window
I see an ever-changing screen
Of stems and branches,

Plums, oaks, holly, ivy,
All dark against
The bright December sky.

If I were skilled
With brush and paint,
Pencil, chalk,

I’d sketch a picture
I could frame to show
Anyone who cared.

But I’m not so blessed;
So instead I talk these lines
That fail to catch

What I am staring at in awe
This afternoon at half-past two,
Twelve days before the solstice.

Oh that words were hues,
Movements, vivid marks
As well as meanings!

Then I could share with you
This latticework of limbs,
This mystery of brown on blue.

©2020 John I. Blair, 12/9/2020