I know you come for me.Who else is awake to appreciate your beauty?
Yet, I repudiate you, not accepting what you offer.
Sky of grey, sun not quite thinking of cresting the horizon;
Trees mere shadows.
Young beauties, branches bowing gracefully upon the wind.
Proud adults standing firm; some with leaves, obdurate, refusing to descend.
The elders, standing resolute, refusing to bend, nor to show the least resistance--not even to your fate;
Knowing that with first light you will be shown to be bare--of leaves, of branches, even of bark. Dead, except that you refuse to lie down.
The snow falls softly.
Glistening sprinkles; first liquid, then hardening, forming crystaline stars in the growing light of dawn.
Tipping, then covering, the leaves and grasses left behind.
You do your best to soften the browns and blacks of death and rot and turn them into shades of white, speaking of renewal.
I sit and watch;
Unmoved by your transformation of mere earth into wonderland.
I watch, and I no longer care.
I sit and watch;
Refusing to wipe my face, as you create rivulets in creases where I long ago forbade water to run again.
I watch; and I wonder if I shall ever care again.
I watch; and I doubt that my caring ever mattered to begin with.
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