The Dryad in Winter

In the breathless white of winter,
Beneath the quilted snows,
Amidst her trees, within the glade
Where frosted sunlight glows,
The winter sap runs deep and thick;
The quiet shadow grows.
There, deep within her winter wood,
The Dryad finds repose.

The quiet sleep of winter trees,
Of roots deep in the earth,
Of boughs that bend beneath the snows
Straddling their girth,
Of pinecones trapped beneath the drifts,
Harbingers of birth.
The winter dreams of far off spring
Of color, warmth and mirth

But spring is still a long way off
The snows lie thick and deep.
The dryad and her snowy wood
Lie wrapped in winter’s sleep.