The trees stand naked
against the dawn sky,
each tiny branch exposed
on a rose colored canvas.

Even the old ones display
their broken and branchless limbs.
The younger ones dance in the wind
wildly waving their twigs,
while the old ones silently watch
only swaying to the music.

Each one unique with different
bends and curves here and there,
all proudly displaying their splendor
to the dawn sky.

I take off my clothes and stand with them
knowing they will accept me,
with all my unique bends and curves,
as one of their own.

Linda Heron Wind