My dear and darling maple tree
You now have met a death, I see.
Cold and bitter are your days,
And oh, how changèd are your ways!
Wondrous colors once I knew
Were out upon the grasses strewn.
Thence they took their sleep below,
And now are buried ’neath the snow.

Will you emerge just as you were,
With leaves on each familiar spur?
Or will you, like this soul of mine,
Bear fresh, new shoots beneath the sky —
Fight through labor pains to bud
And bring to life what else you would?

Let us send our roots below
To drink of life, and later show
The work that’s done in Winter’s rest:
In hoped-for fruit we now invest.
Oh, Winter, pregnant with the Spring,
Pray, nourish now the fruit we’ll bring.

Tyler Rogness

Tyler Rogness is a business analyst by day and a poet and fiction writer by night. And by early morning. And any other margins in the day he can find. He loves the smell of old books, the taste of old words, and the way language can shape and reshape our world and our lives in it. He can be found enjoying Minnesota’s seasons with his beautiful wife and three boys, and more of his work can be found at awakingdragons.com.