There is something about the barren trees of winter
devoid of summer’s green leaves, spring’s budding flowers,
and autumn’s crimson and golden foliage
Today the barren treen trunks stand beside me
as I gaze upon you
not looking toward the treetops or the snow on the ground
but the center of the forest
They stand beside me
like totem poles sharing
their ancient stories
of the adventures
in between
Tell me your secrets so I may carry on
not gazing high for inspiration,
not questing the support of the ground
but
just seeing the middle
and for the first time in my sixty years
I can see the beautiful center
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