Astride the weary, winter road
Forlorn with wind and rain,
Weathered from the thawing cold
And cracked in fissured veins.
The breeze blasts the blighted boughs
No littered leaves, long fallen.
The twisted trunk makes sighs and vows
To never yield, though swollen.
The rugged roots like robust troops
Spread far beneath the soil.
Sailing in a soggy soup,
The earthworms surface, the snails recoil.
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