This time of year every tree is open to view.
Every detail of architecture of trees and landscape.
Chris and I have often cycled pass this clutch of Beech trees on the ridge of a field that falls away northwards into Penn Woods.
Just before Christmas I stopped to make a drawing. And a little bit of browsing turned up this poem, appropriate to the time and place:
All the complicated details
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS 1883–1963
New Jersey USA