Exposed

At Winter's end
The bare tree stands alone,
Bereft of leaves,
Of self-importance,
Paralysed by December's merciless frost,
Until the Sun's shy breath,
Diffused through the tinted sky,
Begins to thaw the jaded bark.

As the ice melts,
The echo of Winter
Mocks Spring's naivete
With a mess of wet soil,
Tainted snow, and
Wrinkled Leaves
That can just barely remember
A glimmer of their youth
As the hesitant rays
Reflect on the last flakes of snow.